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STRUGGLE 



Dr. ExManuel Lasker 



1907 



Copyright, 1907, by Emanuel Lasker 

Entered at Stationer's Hal!. 

All rights reserved. 



Lasksr's PuBLisHma Compaky 

116 Nassau Street 

N^w York 




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LIBRARY of C0NQRES8 

Twa 6oDies Received ; 

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Copyright, 1907, by Emanuel Lasker 

Entered at Stationer's Hall 

All rights reserved 



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PREFACE 



This book, though it deals with laws governing 
struggles in general, is the outcome of reflections upon 
the meaning of the approved principles of the strug- 
gle on even terms between two brains called chess. 
The result of contests is on the chessboard much more 
clearly discernible than in other combats, on account 
of the checkmate that admits of no obscuration. And 
chess offers so many opportunities for study, its theory 
is so well tested, that it is an unrivalled educator in 
strategy. Hence, my activity in chess during the last 
eighteen* years has been a not inconsiderable advan- 
tage in my endeavor, extending nearly as long, to ex- 
press the strategic rules valid on the chessboard in 
terms so general as to apply to any of the combats in 
nature. 
New York, January, 1907. 

Emanuel Lasker. 



INDEX 



CHAPTERS. t»AGE. 

The Problem 5 

Strategy 13 

The Principle of Work 29 

The Principle of Economy 35 

Balance and Advantage 41 

Chance 58 

The Principle of Logic and of Justice 69 

Sufficiency of the Laws 94 

APPLICATIONS. 

Province of Faith in Struggle 8 

Mere Maneuvring, Rococo 31 

Economy the Guide of the Defense 36 

Lack of Economy is Ugly 39 

Simplicity is Economy 40 

Superiority the Condition for Attack 45 

Brain and Idea 51 

Justice in Chance 60 

The Gambler (]6 

The Attack Must be Logical and Just 79 

The Orator, the Physician, the Teacher 85 

Music ,.,..,...,,,... 91 



THE PROBLEM 



It is an old reflection that life is a struggle. 
Darwin has expressed this idea more profoundly. 
He proved that the race, nay even the individual, 
is the product of the life struggles of its ancestors. 
The riddles of the cosmos can therefore be solved in 
one way only; by investigating the laws and prin- 
ciples which determine the course and the outcome 
of struggles. 

However, the book of the strategy of contests 
is yet unwritten. There are many who would even 
deny the possibility of the existence of such a 
science. Mystic conceptions of the nature of com- 
bats are as dominant as in the times when it was 
supposed that victory was achieved by the aid 
of Athene, when before important decisions the ad- 
vice of the gods was asked, when their good will 
was solicited and after victory was secured thanks 
were offered by making sacrifices of various kinds; 
and where men thought that neither reason nor 
justice but the dictates of an autocratic power 
governs destinies. 

The idea of the dependence of human fate upon 
an unanalysable force has brought immense suffer- 
ing to humanity. The pages of history and con- 
temporary life are full of illustrations. At the time 
of the Solstices each family of the old northern- 
races sacrificed its first born to the sun believing 
that 'by such a great sacrifice the sun would be 
inditced to return on its course and to bring warmth 
and harvest. It was only after m.any thousands of 
years, when the Christian missionaries showed that 
the sun comes back unsolicited that these sacrifices 
ceased. And when they explained the sacrifice of 



Jesus, Yule Tide became Christmas. The poetical 
dress of the Yule feast still exists. Its terrible 
purpose is now forgotten. A few phrases, a few 
old customs and, if we dig deep, a few superstitions 
serve to remind us of the sacrifice of human life 
made at Yule Tide to the sun and the god of harvest-. 

When humanity was in its infancy it conceived 
all the forces upon which the course of human life 
depends as man-like personalities. These were the 
gods, the fairies, the elfins, the witches, ghosts and 
goblins of our ancestors who resided in the air, 
in fire, in water, in woods and in the imagination. 
There they played many fine games, loved and 
hated and struggled with each other like men, until 
a strong enemy, growing up by slow degrees ex- 
pelled them into fairy land. This destructive foe 
of arbitrary power is an instinctive tendency com- 
mon to all life out of which grew our ideals of 
justice. 

A just judge must not be moved by inclinations 
or prejudices. If he be infinitely just, it would be 
better for him not to harbour likes or dislikes what- 
soever. For after he has heard the evidence, there 
can be no doubt as to his judgment. Every human 
being has an instinctive sentiment destined to play 
the role of such a judge. Even children and the 
intellectually lowest races, although not competent 
to practise justice, recognize it. Justice meted out 
by the father elevates him in the eyes of his chil- 
dren to a king whom they love and adore. Every 
unjust action by him produces fear in them and 
lowers their respect. 

Who tells children what is just and what is 
unjust? And how is it that they have an unfail- 
ing sense of justice? Thousands of g^erations 
have contributed towards the development of an 
instinct whose germ is the sense of equality such 
as is expressed by the golden rule: "Do unto 

6 



others as thou wouldst others do unto you." In 
oiden times a few kings practised justice, for in- 
stance, the wise and mild Hamurabi and Abraham. 
That they were just, even in anger, excited the ad- 
miration of their contemporaries. The Bible says 
of Abraham that he was peace loving but strong in 
war when defending a just cause. In those days 
of autocratic kingship the common man did not 
know how to practise justice, nor demanded it as 
a toll due to him from the rulers, until Moses on 
Mount Sinai announced the Ten Commandments. 
Their essential meaning is that they give precepts 
for just living in the daily intercourse of average 
men. Great emphasis is laid throughout the Old 
Testament on justice. AVe are told often that "God 
is One, all Powerful and Just/' This word of the 
justice of God was to the oppressed Israelites a call 
from fairy land ; the promise of a happier future. 

Ideas of justice slowly grew among the Jews 
as is abundantly shown by the equalising laws of 
the Talmud and the practise of charity imposed 
on them in the law of the "tenth.'' 

Then came Jesus of Nazareth, and St. Peter 
hurled the hate devouring torch of his teachings 
among the nations. The justice that exacts "an 
eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth" was repug- 
nant to Jesus. Such justice might be applied 
among perfect beings; but among frail and erring 
men charity becomes a necessary adjunct of jus- 
tice. Charity in the wide human sense is the motif 
of the New Testament. 

In the sermon on the Mount, Jesus said "Love 
your enemies. I say unto you that yea resist not 
evil." On the tempestuous sea He said to the sailors 
"Why are ye^ fearful, O ye of little faith." He prom- 
ised eternal happiness to those who act right to men. 
damnation only to those who act wrongly towards 
their kind. These admonitions have never been 



understood literally. Christians have killed their 
enemies in battle. Indeed, when they have been 
most devoted to their religion, as a few hundreds of 
years after its foundation and in the times of the 
Crusades, they burned thousands at the stake 
who belonged to a minority interpreting the Bible 
in a manner slightly different from the governing 
belief. It would not be absurd to imagine that such 
acts might be just; but it would be doing violence 
to the word love to suppose that they conformed 
to the precept "Love thy enemies." Therefore it 
is evident that the words of Jesus are not exempt 
from the necessity to which all language is sub- 
ject to be taken allegorically. And it is not difficult 
to discover their exact meaning. It is impossible 
that his demands should be contrary to the prin- 
ciples of charitable justice, and even such justice 
must at times punish. Punishment might be actu- 
ated by the desire to improve, but it is contrary 
to human nature to love injustice. Hence "Love 
thy enemies" can only be followed when the enemy 
is acting justly. Then it can always be followed; 
even the criminal may fove his just judge, nor do 
we hate our conscience. 

The allegory "But whosoever shall smite thee on 
thy right cheek, turn to him the other also," in 
common with other allegorical injunctions demands 
extraordinary mildness and reticence before an 
accusation is made and an act of punishment or 
vengeance is performed. 

The words pertaining to faith have been mis- 
understood oftenest. Evidently no one can force 
himself to believe what is not in his nature to be- 
lieve as little as an apple tree can force itself to 
bear roses. It would therefore be most unjust to 
demand faith and to threaten with eternal damna- 
tion those who cannot comply with the demand. Such 
procedure would be far from the mildness preached 

8 



by Jesus. The fishermen were asked to have faith 
In spite of the raging tempest. We may presume 
then that the test of faith comes in the midst of 
difficulties and misfortunes. Hence faith is a be- 
lief that the forces of life act not blindly but are, 
manlike, subjected to the working of a principle 
of justice. Who has faith does not fear. The re- 
ward for the faithful is happiness. It is impossible 
to understand heaven and hell as having physical 
existence in space but they may exist as forces act- 
ing on the mind. Nor is this interpretation in any 
way opposed to the biblical sayings, for in Jesus* 
lescription of the kingdom to come happiness is 
promised to the righteous who have treated even the 
poor and lowly with justice and charity. Heaven 
and Hell lie therefore in one's conscience. 

To say that the above interpretation is the only 
one compatible wnth logic and the spirit of lan- 
guage would be utterly untrue. In fact, the lati- 
tude of the intrepreter is considerable. But there is 
only one understanding of the Bible which will en- 
able men to follow its precepts while fi;- hting life's 
battles wholeheartedly. And from this interpre- 
tation valuable advice can be gleaned by the toiler. 

Hope and Faith, such as we have stated it to be, 
perform a necessary and valuable function. 

When our life presents hardships, when we 
cannot master the difficulties, and doubts of our 
ability discourage us, hope tells us to do our best 
and to wait. When we are in the presence of im- 
mense forces and a sense of our insignificance as-" 
sails us, faith whispers into our ear not to fear in- 
justice. Hope and faith still the heart beat when 
will and reason cannot overcome obstacles, and 
therefore doubt and anxiety make the heart tremble. 

No being is born without hope. Hope is the 
propelling power of all life. Even the lowest 
animals live cheerfully, though pain or death may 



immediately overtake them. Ignorance does not 
disturb them. But there are many men without 
faith. Faith is courage after action, and therefore 
strengthens the individual to further enterprises. 
It brings peace. In the evolution of mind it is 
the youngest member of the family of sentiment. 
It is the conviction of the justice of all that 
happens, the expression of confidence and 
trust. Fundamentally, it is built on the idea 
of justice. It follows therefore that only those 
who have sentiments of justice can ever hope to 
attain the blessings of faith. Who has no faith can- 
not obtain it by a mere command. It must grow. 
It is nourished by experiences gained in enterprises 
whose outcome we cannot fully determine ; in sail- 
ing the oceaUj climbing mountains, in searching 
after truth, in the struggle against evil social forces, 
even in boarding the express train, or the Atlantic 
liner. 

Let us for a moment consider the position of^ 
a man who has no faith. To begin with, the extent* 
of his enterprise Is dependent upon his knowledge, 
and naturally he can only move in a small circle. 
Met by a great force whose power he cannot com- 
prehend or command, lack of faith compels him to 
search continually for knowledge which he cannot 
obtain. Fear makes him needlessly wretched, his 
spirit of enterprise is weakened, and his aibilities 
do not reach their natural development. 

What is ordinarily termed faith is entirely dif- 
ferent to our definition. The common notion of 
faith Is the expression of a wish for the greatest 
happiness even though we have done nothing to 
deserve it. Those who possess it have moments of 
ecstasy; but like the opium eaters they have to 
purchase their happiness by extreme sufifering. 

What faith promises them is such as would 
fill the imagination of a child with extreme happi- 

10 



ness; for instance, eternal joy to themselves and 
suffering to their enemies. Such faith instead of 
helping us to love our neighbors can only end in 
making us pity, despise and hate the faithless. 

The faith, the trust that God who gives the 
sparrows food will not forget men must how^ever 
only be called to aid after will and reason have 
done their utmost. The sailors who forget their 
duty perish. But w^hen they have done their 
best, then they should have faith and not fear. It 
is to the worker that faith, the harbinger of peace, 
is a real blessing. But those who look upon faith 
as an end in itself without using will and reason 
to the utmost extent do not satisfy the demands of 
justice. For they leave to others to do their share 
of the work for the mxaintenance of humanity. Th^- 
do not earn their daily bread by the sw^eat of their 
brow. 

After Jesus was crucified many tried to ex- 
plain the ideas of his picturesque and allegorical 
language. The erring brain of man has propounded 
thousands of interpretations. Finally the simple 
and beautiful teachings of Jesus w^ere clothed in a 
mystical dressing. It was said that only the faith- 
ful can participate of the grace of God. But is not 
the whole w^orld proof and bearer of the grace of 
God? Immense suffering has been caused by this 
mystical conception of faith. 

Savonarola was the pioneer in the struggle 
against mysticism. He was a truthful follower of 
the teachings of Jesus. 

When the hostile priests burned him at the stake 
and a boy fed the fire with a stick of wood, Savona- 
rola exclaimed, '"'O sancta simplicitas." It is mar- 
velous that a man tortured by flames of fire had 
such a sense of charity and of justice as to accuse 
the boy^ his would-be tormentor, of nothing more 
than simplicity pronouncing it sacred at the same 
time. 

II 



From the ashes of Savonarola there grew other 
fighters. Many fell in the struggle, but others al- 
ways took their place and held up on high the 
light of knowledge. It is our duty to continue 
this work and to accomplish it 

In olden times when the continents of the earth 
were little known, miraculous islands were thought 
to exist and the imagination peopled them with 
strange and terrible monsters. Now we have dis- 
covered all parts of the world except the two poles 
and examined its products, its uses and its dangers. 
In former times humanity profited by the resources 
of nature very little, now an abundance of crops, 
of animals, of metals, of labor-saving engines 
is produced. Acquaintance with reality has enabled 
us to do this. It is even so in the world of ideas 
and sentiment. There, also, are imaginary mon- 
sters, frightening the timid, but revealing their im- 
potency to the courageous searcher after truth. And 
the downfall of these monsters will be as great a 
benefit to humanity as the extension of our knowl- 
edge in geography has proven to be. 

It is the mystical conception of life that has to be 
contended against. The riddles of life being solva- 
ble only by a study of struggle, the mystical con- 
ception of contest m.ust be assailed. What is strug- 
gle and victory? Do they obey laws that reason 
can comprehend and formulate? What are these 
laws ? That is the problem ! 



12 



STRATEGY 



In the science of war a distinction is made be- 
teween strategy and tactics. The military strate- 
gist orders the execution of movements and maneu- 
vres, the tactician follows the command with- 
out seaching for its reason. The tactician solves 
the problems set by the strategist. The strategist 
must know the military situation in its entirety, not 
so the tactician. For him^ only those circumstances 
are essential that may tend to lighten or to make 
more difficult his special task. 

Important as this distinction between military 
strategy and tactics might be, it is not fundamen- 
tal. For the distinction is only one of degree, it is 
founded merely on the magnitude of the tasks set. 

War is a very interesting struggle, but by no 
means the only one of significance in the life of hu- 
manity. The world, in its largest as in its smallest 
Darts, is full of struggles. To prove this, it is only 
lecessary to extend the conception of struggle to 
ts natural bounds. A struggle arises always when 
something that has life desires to attain a purpose 
against resistance. 

Words travel in the brain in fixed channels so that 
he who wants to express new ideas is obliged to 
coin new words. A struggle may be therefore here 
called a "machee'* and "alive" in the above sense, be 
everything that is capable of development and re- 
generation, such as an animal, a plant, a race, a 
nation, a cell, an organ, a language, a sentiment, an 
idea and many other things. 

Many questions may here be asked. What is 
will? What is a purpose? etc., etc. These prob- 
lems have been put two thousand years ago and 

3^3 



a satisfactory solution has .not yet been found 
Here, no attempt at logical hair splitting will be 
made. In the future some philosopher may perhaps 
arise who will examine these questions anew and 
lay the foundation for an absolutely rigorous the- 
ory of machee. Now, no more will be at- 
tempted than to make accessible some considera- 
tions and reflections which are useful for the prac- 
tical purposes of life. And the author tries to attain 
this end by the least circuitous road. 

We shall understand the strategy of a machee as 
the totality of considerations that aid in the ex- 
planation of, and in foreseeing the happenings of a 
machee. Tactics is the strategy of an episode of 
the machee. 
^^ In every machee there are centres of effect, such 
as soldiers, guns, cannon, sabres, ships, etc. in war. 
They will be called the "stratoi" of a machee. Each 
stratos has, as a rule, several effects different in 
kind; effect is therefore generally a multiple quan- 
tity. The unit of each effect that may be produced 
in the machee may be called a "jont." The effect of 
a stratos is consequently a combination of variou5 
jonts. 

To give an instance, a gun in the hands of a sold 
ier can throw projectiles, w^hich may pierce earth 
works of a certain thickness and may put exposec 
men hors du combat. A gun has therefore a piercing 
effect of a higher or lesser degree, by means of 
which it can put men out of battle under various 
circumstances. A gun usually has a bayonet and 
'Sometimes it has been used as a club, as in one of 
Blucher's battles. The gun represents therefore 
three different kinds of effects, or jonts. 

Stratoi move and act in an environment pe- 
culiar to the machee, which we shall call the "field" 
of the machee. The name calls forth a picture of 
an extension in space, but the machic field very 

14 



often has non-spacial properties. In the machee of 
two candidates aspiring to the same office, the 
"field" is composed of the traditions, the power and 
the uses of this office and the ideas that the people 
have of these matters. The field represents the to- 
tality of the circumstances of the machee that can- 
not be influenced by the stratoi. But, it is, neverthe- 
less, a most important factor in determining the 
course and the issue of the machee, as it is evident 
in regard to the battlefield. 

The first and most important objection that could 
be raised against the attempt to found a science of 
machology is the infinite variety and apparent in- 
determinateness of machic events. When a system 
of physical bodies is acted upon by forces, its ensu- 
ing movements can be determined by d'Alembert's 
law. If the position in space and the motions of 
the particles of the system are known at any one 
moment and the forces acting upon it in the 
course of time are given, the state of that system 
during all time can be definitely ascertained. But 
it is different in a machee. It is sufficient to con- 
sider a game of chess in order to show that from 
the same situation of the stratoi the machee can 
follow varied courses. One might think that on 
account of this indeterminateness a machee would 
brave all attempts to subject it to law and reason. 

However, such an objection would be based on 
a fallacy. When chessplayers of little skill are 
opposed to each other, it is evident that their choice 
of moves is somewhat restricted on account of^ 
the purpose that they have in view; the checkmate," 

Where a mediocre chessplayer sees ten moves to 
continue his game, a master may see only two or 
three. He discards the others as not of sufficent 
merit. The further the master progresses in skill 
and foresight the more is he restricted in his choice 
of moves. It is very similar in other machees. If 

IS 



a mediocre pianist plays a piece before a musical 
audience he will imagine that he is able to execute 
his task in a variety of styles. But for Rosenthal or 
Paderewski only one way of rendering the piece 
will exist. The higher the class of the artist, the 
less is his liberty. 

We may, without a breach of any logical law, 
conceive the process of the growth of perfection 
continued indefinitely. It is therefore not absurb to 
assume the possibility of the existence of a perfect 
strategist. Such a being which can only exist in the 
imagination, never actual in the flesh, has no liberty 
whatever. Its desires to attain a specific object 
with the forces at its command, struggling against 
obstacles, causes it to use his infinite skill, insight 
and strategic wisdom and thus propels it into a 
line of action that every other such perfect strategist 
would follow. Whatever its course of action may 
be, it is determinate. 

Ideal beingfs of this perfect type wiir be called 
"macheeides." A strategic action of a macheeide 
will be called "eumachic," any other strategic act- 
ion ^'amachic." 

If the course of a machee is eumachic, it is 
uniquely determined. 

But in this reflection we have silently admitted 
the truth of a supposition that deserves illustration. 

Evidently purposes can be attained in a variety 
of ways, just as in business an article may be 
bought for a large or a small sum of money, or at 
immediate or later delivery. But we shall designate 
him as the best business man who concludes his 
transactions to the best advantage. After a series 
of such transactions his advantage will finally be 
measured in money. 

In every machee existing in nature, a similar 
parallel may be drawn. In battle, for instance, the 
getieral shall perform a certain task in such a man^ 

i6 



ner, that, finally when the balance is drawn, his loss 
in military values (stratoi and jonts) is as small 
as possible. 

Something exists, consequently, in every machee 
that plays the same part in that machee as money 
in business. In the struggle of living beings that 
thing is called vitality. We shall name it the "en- 
ergy" of the machee. 

Macheeides are therefore, according to their na- 
ture and definition, infinitely economical with the 
energy at their disposal. .An action that wastes en- 
ergy is amachic. 

Macheeides exist in nature. Probably the atoms 
may be conceived as macheeides, inasmuch as they 
obey the principle of least constraint by Gauss and 
also other principles which imply that a quantity — 
the energy of the machee of atoms, as it were — is in 
all actual movements the least possible. 

Undoubtedly the instincts of plants, animals and^ 
men are macheeides. The involuntary actions of 
living things against small irritations that attack 
them are to a high degree, we may say infinitely, 
economical in regard to the vitality of their species. 
Many are the experiments that are in accordance 
with this proposition. But let us illustrate our 
meaning by a few well-known facts 

The race never makes an exertion unless resist- 
ance forces it. 

When resistance ceases, the organ, whose func- 
tion it was to combat it, is given little nourishment, 
becomes finally dwarfed and is used for other pur- 
poses. 

No individual, not even a single cell is al- 
lowed to fall in life's struggle but an effort is made 
to compensate the race. Before individuals die of 
infectious diseases, that are a threat to the race, 
they struggle in fever and weaken their assailant 
who in time loses its virulence, Anim-al? flee b«for« 

17 



superior force, but when they are wounded they 
furiously attack the enemies of their race before 
they die, although they know that for themselves 
they have nothing to gain by their act of vengeance. 
And a mother courting death fighting for her babe 
is really fighting for the race. 

The course of the development of an embryo of 
a race changes very slightly in the progress of time. 
In each generation that process Is very nearly the 
same as It had been in the last, and so on through 
thousands of generations. The part that the last 
generation takes In varying this process is exceed- 
ingly small. Very little of the experiences and 
adaptations of the last generation Is added to the 
life of the embryo. This having always been so. It 
follows that the embryo must pass throug^h all the 
steps of development of his race, before he can be- 
come a member of it. This is Haeckel's phllog^ene- 
tlc law which very likely can be extended. For It 
is probable that every Individual act of seeing, 
smelling, tasting, hearing, feeling and thinking in 
the short time of its generation passes through all 
the stages of devolopment through which the 
senses and the act of thinking had to pass before 
they became what they are. I have made observa- 
tions on the process by which a chessplayer decides 
on his move. Even excellent chessplayers act as 
they did when they were the merest tyros, if they are 
forced to move so quickly that they cannot fin- 
ish the process of strategic reasoning through 
which their brain passes. Their first Impulse Is tc 
make an arbitrary, usually senseless move, the sec- 
ond Impulse show^s already a slight progress in 
thought and so on through the whole scale of their 
chess development. 

But It does not need the aid of experiment to 
demonstrate the above assertion. The consumption 
of vltar energy used for the change of instinctive 

i8 



life processes is now and always has been a mini- 
mum, and from this the philogenetic principle of all 
life functions, as of life itself, follows as a logical 
necessity. 

The capacity of a stratos to serve the purpose of 
the macheeide depends on two different things; 

1. On the intensity of its jonts in the various po- 
sitions that the stratos may occupy. 

2. On the mobility of the stratos, or the ability of 
the stratos to adapt itself to varying circumstances, 
or its ease of transition from one task to another. 

A man provided with a gun and bullets who lies 
behind a sandhill and aims his shots at immobile or 
mobile things or persons represents a jont of the 
same kind as a machine gun that dominates the 
same space. But the intensity of the latter is much 
greater. The fire of a battery is not influenced by 
the loss of its horses, but its ability to adapt itself 
to circum.stances is much decreased thereby. A 
man exposed to the fire of the enemy and who lies 
on the ground can be less easily hit than a man 
standing upright. He therefore absorbs more fire 
than the latter. This jont of the man, other things 
being equal, is inversely proportional to the surface 
that he presents. A man who in daylight stands 
•upright on the field, can walk and move about more 
readily and can use his sight to better advantage 
than a man crouching on the ground. Therefore 
the adaptability of the former is larger than that of 
the latter. An artist has the more adaptability or 
what is generally described as versatility, accord- 
ing to the number of varied tasks which he can 
'successfully perform. The white blood corpuscles 
hurl themselves against bacteria or matter that 
jcnter into the blood. They attack the intruders, 
/strusrgle with them, and finally, if victorious. 
I swallow them. The number and the energy 
of the white corpuscles in the blood rep- 
t resent a quantity. But the capacity of the blood, 

JQ 



after an invasion to generate that particular serum 
best suited to defend the body against its intruder, 
is proof of the immense adaptability of the blood. 

These various examples illustrate what the ex- 
pressions 'intensity of the jont" and "mobility" or 
''elasticity" or "inflexibility" or "adaptability" of the 
stratoi are meant to designate. 

We shall call the adaptability of a group of stra- 
toi their armoostia. 

If a group of stratoi threatens another the latter 
has no choice but to parry or to permit the enemy 
an advantage. If, for instance, in an encounter 
fought with swords^ a man strikes a blow, his op- 
ponent cannot remain inactive without suffering. He 
may jump backwards, move his head or body out of 
the way or catch the blow with the blade of his 
sword, but in any case he is forced to do something 
that we call "parry" or suffer at least a partial de- 
feat. Similarly, if a man assumes a position of read- 
iness from which he might successfully strike vari- 
ous blows according to his choice, his antagonist 
must assume a position to prevent those threats 
from being executed. 

A prevented threat is called "pressure." As long 
as the threat exists, a part of the hostile energ)'- 
must be spent on hindering its execution. The lib- 
erty of choice of the enemy is decreased by the pres- 
sure exerted upon him. 

To find the strategy of the macheeides is fre- 
quently a task of extraordinary difficulty. But it' 
a few typical cases we can discover the eumachid 
maneuvres. Anl later on we shall see that we caLi 
demonstrate whole classes of possible maneuvres. 
as amachic. \ 

A small force which is being approached by a 
very large force must move in the direction of least 
pressure. Any other manueuvre would be amachic, 



because the counterpressure of the small force is 
generally negligible and it must therefore be its 
strategy to sell its life at the biggest price. It exe- 
cutes this plan by flying in the direction of ?east 
pressure, since then the future threats of the pow- 
erful opponent are a minimum. 

If the small force is in a position of minimum 
pressure, it must stay where it is. Such a posi- 
tion is an ambush or a fortress, and the small force 
will be ultimately lost there unless support arrives 
in time. 

It may sometimes happen, that the small force 
exerts a very strong pressure on its powerful oppo- 
nent, by being able to rapidly attack a vital organ. 
In that case the small force will move in the direc- 
tion of the smallest difference of pressure. 

To be able to literally follow this principle, it is 
necessary to have means at hand for the measure- 
ment of pressure. Generally it will not be difficult 
to approximately indicate the various threats and 
therefore also the implied parries in which two 
opponents encounter each other on each point of 
their machic field. The pressure on a point can 
be quantitatively measured by finding the exertion 
that one of the parties must make in order to as- 
sail it in a eumachic manner. The greater the nec- 
essary exertion, the less the pressure on the point. 

If A is a force of small intensity but large armoos- 
tia and B conversely one of large intensity but 
small armoostia, it is the strategy of B to expand its 
pressure equally over a coherent region of the field 
so that its pressure is everywhere at least equal 
to that of A. 

The largeness of its armoostia enables A to con- 
centrate its force quickly upon any given point. 
Hence B should never permit its pressure on any 
point of the region that it desires to dominate, to 
be less than the pressure of A. A reverse would 

21 



otherwise be probable. If the ponderous B would 
assail the mobile A directly, it would make a vain 
effort, for A will have changed its position at 
the decisive moment so as to deprive the 
attack of its incisiveness. It must therefore be 
the object of B to limit the armoostia of A by sub- 
jecting A to pressure which it cannot evade. A 
coherent region of pressure, such as a ring, would 
be preferable to any other, as it would leave no 
loopholes for escape. By contracting the region 
of pressure A may finally be forced to battle and 
be annihilated. 

All this is true in whatever form the machic field 
may present itself. 

A very important particular case of the above is 
that of a force A of stratoi which has a very large 
armoostia for defensive purposes but none for ag- 
gression. Such force is best established in a por- 
tion of the field where changes in the situation of 
the machee are not desired and where an attack is 
apprehended. When the moment of attack draws 
near, sufficient pressure should be put upon the 
field where A is stationed to make it inadvisable 
for B to attack. It will then be the best policy of B 
to concentrate his threats upon a point of A so as to 
force a defensive maneuvre that will decrease the 
armoostia of A. After the armoostia of A is suffi- 
ciently lowered by this process^ an attack by B 
might be undertaken and will not miss the point. If 
B has more important tasks on hand, or if it is im- 
possible to decrease the armoostia of A by force, B 
is obl'ged to assail the enemy from a different 
direction. 

For example, on the battlefield we have sand 
walls, ditches, wire entano-lements defended by a 
small force but whose approaches are exposed to 
strong artillery fire. In chess a well supported 
chain of pawns has the mobile and defensive prop- 

22 



erties above described to A. In law, the cross exam- 
ination of an unwilling witness is an instance. 

The case where A has a large armoostia for at- 
tack is illustrated in war by cavalry, torpedo boats 
and submarine vessels. In the struggle of the races 
a mosquito is a very good example of such a force. 
In chess especially the knights and bishops play 
the role of an aggressive A. 

If A has a slightly larger armoostia than B and 
otherwise approximately the same intensity of 
effect then it is best for A, to avoid engaging his 
forces until he has profited by his superior ar- 
moostia. 

If A advances to meet B, the circumstances to 
which A can adapt himself more readily than B, 
would not occur. But if A keeps at a distance from 
B, the pressure of B on A is very small and A can 
readily and with ease assume that formation of his 
forces which would allow him -an advantage over 

B. Thus B would be obliged to make exertions 
to assail or to evade A; in either case a disadvan- 
tage. 

As an instance we may think of the combats be- 
tween cavalry and infantry as occurred in the past. 
But almost in every machee instances will present 
themselves to us. 

Let there be three groups of stratoi, A, B and 

C. A and B belong to the same party, C is their 
opponent. A is equal or even superior in force 
to C. Let B have hardly any armoostia (a chained 
giant, for instance) . . It will then be the best strat- 
egy of C to attack B in its most vulnerable points 
or at least to threaten to do so, and it will then exert 
a tremendous pressure upon A. 

This type is very important, as its influence 
makes itself felt in every situation of a machee. For 
each force contains always groups of relatively 
large and others of relatively small armoostia, such 
as A and B. 

23 



The demonstration of the proposition is clear, 

when we consider, that the stratoi of small ar- 
moostla have in proportion to their capacity for 
serving their cause only little power of resistance 
and that they therefore invite the attack of their 
opponent. According- to the definition of a machee- 
ide it must neglect no opportunity to gain machic 
advantages. In the same way A must not permit 
the time when C attacks B to pass by unprofitably. 
Therefore A will rapidly concentrate his forces upon 
C, more particularly upon the most mobile forces of 
C. A battle between the most mobile parts of A 
against the most mobile parts of C will ensue, and 
C will in this be defender, but aggressor against B. 
The parts of A and C that cannot very quickly reach 
the scene of action will in this fight be hardly more 
than spectators. The macheeides can almost leave 
them out of their calculations. 

The types above enumerated occur rarely by 
themselves, but jointly they occur in each machee 
and in each situation of a machee. The maneuvre 
of the macheeide will accordingly be such as to ex- 
press all the various elementary strategic principles 
at once. Mathematically speaking, its maneuvres 
will be the resultant of the different simple ma- 
neuvres that it would choose, were the types of 
positions as simple as they were described above. 

We are therefore able to sketch the course that 
a machee between two macheeides will follow, in a 
general manner. 

The group of stratoi that in proportion to their 
capacity have small armoostia will be the objective 
point of the opponent's attack. In a naval battle, 
for instance, the men-of-war, on which the cannon 
fire has begun to tell by disarranging their machin- 
ery or in making them in some other way less cap- 
able of swift motion, will attract the fire of the oppo- 
nent. The points subject to small hostile pressure, 

24 



but whence comparatively strong ejects are possi- 
ble, are particularly suited as resting points for 
stratoi. Other places will generally be points of 
transition for stratoi. And the larger the armoostia 
of a stratoi, the more pressure it will be able to 
withstand or, as we might say, to absorb. In case 
of an attack by superior force, the line of retreat 
will be that of least pressure. Stratoi of large de- 
fensive armoostia will be used to form a coherent 
wall that can only with difficulty be penetrated, 
such as a ring, a line, a shield or skin. Its func- 
tion will be to minimize the effect of the mobile 
hostile forces and to form in its rear a space 
of small pressure that is very apt to serve as posi- 
tion for strong stratoi of small armoostia. Stratoi 
of large aggressive armoostia will attempt to make 
a breach into the enemy's wall. We see all this ex- 
emplified in naval warfare. The armour is the wall, 
the cannon balls are the stratoi of large aggressive 
armoostia. The position of the cannon on each 
ship and of the ships in their formation is chosen 
with regard to above rules. In the body of an 
animal the most valuable organs are situated in the 
points of least pressure. But we could multiply the 
examples a thousandfold. 

If the hostile armies of stratoi are at a large dis- 
tance from each other, the macheeide, if unable to 
increase the number of its stratoi and jonts, will 
be entirely devoted to improve its "organization" 
and to impede that of the enemy. The pur- 
pose of "organization" is to increase the ar--^ 
moostia, for instance by seeing to it that the stratoi 
do not obstruct each other but have a free field for 
their effect. Its aim is also the formation of a wall 
that has to serve as the most advanced coherent 
line of defence against raids of the most mobile 
stratoi of the enemy. When the hostile forces ap- 
proach each other the task of organization is over- 

25 



skadowed in importance by others. But even ttien 
it is by no means negligible. On the con- 
trary, amid the clash of arms the process of organi- 
zation is quickly proceeding to furnish lines of re- 
serve force when they are most needed. And a pro- 
cess of organization, reorganization and disorgani- 
zation is going on during the whole course of a eu- 
machic machee. 

It is impossible, without the aid of the principles 
that will be discussed later on, to give a more de- 
tailed and accurate description of the machic pro- 
cess, but even the outline of it as given here is ca- 
pable of teaching many lessons. For it is on ac- 
count of their universal applicability and the ease 
with which they can be applied, that these maxims 
are valuable to the average man. Whether a man 
is occupied in business, or study, or art, or social 
life, or play or with competing in a con- 
test of grave consequences, it will generally be an 
easy matter for him to determine the field of the 
struggle and the stratoi, and to obtain at least an ap- 
proximate idea of their effects and jonts, their ar- 
moostia and their pressure. And thus by follow- 
ing the principles laid down, his action, though he 
study the situation very little, will at least approxi- 
mate eumachic action to some extent. Ordinarily, 
men act very foolishly in machees that they have 
examined little. They make the most elementary 
mistakes, in direct opposition to the above common- 
sense rules. 



To find examples to illustrate what has been said 
hitherto we need only look at random into the cur- 
rent of life. In fencing, it is clear that the 
blade of the weapon serves as wall, that the initial 
position, which the fighters usually assume, is in- 
tended to be the position of largest armoostia. that 
eye, wrist and foot are valuable stratoi whereas 

26 



body and head demand protection. The strategy ol 
macheeide fencers is difficult to determine, as it 
depends each instant on the mobility and the state 
of fatigue of eye, wrist and foot, on the motion that 
the weapon and the wrist is actually executing, on 
the exertion necessary to change those motions and 
on the situations of exposed points. To examine all 
this accurately one must study the physiological 
laws of action valid for the eye, the wrist and the 
feet. After this knowledge has been attained, the 
theory of fencing reduces itself to a mere intel- 
lectual labor,, which may be symbollically expressed 
by a kind of chess game, in which the actions of the 
pieces imitate the actions of eye, wrist and feet 
etc., in their field. To acquire skill in fencing it 
is necessary to "train" the brain, the eye, the wrist 
and the feet for rapid and accurate execution of their 
various tasks, or otherwise one would be able to 
tell how to fence but unable to execute one's strategy. 

It is very similar in boxing. Here the fist is 
seat of the attack, the bones of the arm form the 
wall; the weaknesses are a certain point on the chin, 
nose and eyes. Eye and foot are again valuable 
stratoi, as also the muscles of the arm. Some other 
muscles, the weight of the body and finally the mo- 
bility of the head are of importance. But the wrist 
plays here only a small part. 

Or let us consider the machee of a business man. 

The profit which his activity or his wages 
bring", the woirk or the money that they save to 
society, represent his stratoi for aggression. The 
advertisement in every shape is an army of very 
mobile stratoi penetrating into the regions of large 
pressure. His capital and his credit are his ar- 
moostia, as they enable him, to attack a variety of 
tasks. His wall against intrusion is mainly his 
bookkeeping, the "system" that he follows, which 
enables him to detect the most mobile enemy of the 

2^ 



business man — error and obscurity. The strong- 
est and most ag-gressive hostile stratoi are better 
or cheaper merchandise. Other enemies are tasks 
that he has to solve, such as the getting of orders, 
obtaining payments from his debtors and trans- 
porting his merchandise. The macheeide business 
man solves these tasks according to the principle 
of economy that will later be discussed. The machic 
field is the consuming and purchasing public, its 
lav^s and the buying power of money. 



THE PRINCIPLE OF WORK 



To the extent to which the stratoi accomplish 
effects on parts of the machic field or destroy or 
absorb effects of the enemy, or ireduce the hostile 
armoostia by threats, or promote the common aim 
of their army in any way, they execute "machic 
work." This ''work" is a quantity; it is not very 
difficult to determine, at least approximately, its 
magnitude. It is true that the machic work of 
stratoi is a very much more complicated concep- 
tion than that of the machines or physical systems. 
Work in its physical significance is a fundamental 
conception which the physicist knows how to 
measure, whether the form in which it appears 
is mechanical, or thermal, electrical, elastic or 
chemical. In machees the work, as defined above, 
appears in an infinite variety of ways. In war the 
number of hits of a rain of bullets count as work. 
And if the enemy by a threatened fire is restricted 
in its mobility, the work is potential and its value 
may be found by determining the loss that the 
enemy sustains in its diminished effective power. 
In boxing, the work accomplished can be measured 
by the fatigue produced by the blows on the bodies 
of both antagonists; to be accurate, as the differ- 
ence of the fatigue of each. And since every 
muscle has a different value for the boxer — all 
muscles drawing upon and therefore fatiguing the- 
heart — the fatigue in its resultant effect is, as 
mathematicians would express it, a linear function 
of the fatigue of the various muscles of the body. 
In chess the capturing of the hostile men, the domi- 
nation of the flight squares of the opponent's king 
and the attack of squares where pawns advance 
to (queening count fl= work. The vg^Iues of these 

30 



categories of work change with the position, but 
only very slightly. From these illustrations it be- 
comes fairly evident that to find an approximate 
estimate of the magnitude of macliic work, is a 
task that is ahvays possible though it may be com- 
plicated, and that the approximation with sufhcient 
labor may be extended indefinitely. 

The success of an army of stratoi depends on 
its "work." They must accomplish effects in order 
to gain the victory by force. This is a truth which 
appeals to our reason with axiomotic force, but, 
strange to say, there have been times when it was 
disregarded. Jesus said "By their fruits ye shall 
know them," and he pointed out that the good- 
ness of a man must not be gauged from the in- 
tentions that he professes, nor by his own esti- 
mate of himself, be it high or lov/, or even by the 
judgment that others form of him, but by such of 
his actions as are the outcome of a conflict in which 
his sense of justice and charity triumphs over sen- 
timents of a lower order. Even in warfare the 
principle of work has not always found credence. 
At the time of Frederick the Great the aim of the 
generals was to gain victories by subtleties in 
strategic maneuvring. At the battle of Leuthen 
the Austrians, ninety thousand strong, many of 
whom had not fired a shot, fled before thirty thou- 
sand Prussians, because the Prussian cavalry was 
in their rear. The belief in "positional advantage" 
had degenerated into an unreasoning superstition. 
The value of strate.o-v, which undoubtedly exists, 
had by a series of brilliant strategic successes come 
to be overestimated. "Maneuvring" as opposed to 
a straightforward and simple striving for machic 
effects can only be successful, as a stratagem, 
against an opponent who believes in it. But let 
those methods be adopted against a Napoleon, and 
the results cannot be doubtful. 

30 



Another instance is Rococo. 

It is perhaps in the nature of the human mind 
that a mental force, like a pendulum, once it has 
begun to act does not immediately lose its energy 
when it has reached the point of equilibrium. The 
retarding force must be given time to counter- 
balance the driving force before the point of rest 
is reached. And then the process repeats itself in 
the reverse order. In art such a struggle between 
the thing to be expressed and the form of expres- 
sion is continually going on. In the Rococo period 
the outward shape, in vv^hich its literature, its paint- 
ings, its music and its other manifold works of art 
appeared, was original, clever and, in a certain 
sense, beautiful. But they were void of content 
and import and from this lack of proportion failed 
to sustain or even excite the interest. At the 
present time a work of art must convey a message 
and it must do so in terms simply and directly 
appropriate to the subject matter. It must touch and 
move. 

The genius of the macheeide is the capacity to 
perform, with its army of stratoi, a maximum of 
machic work. The macheeide therefore, in every 
moment and v/ith every maneuvre, strives for re- 
sults. If, for instance, the weaknesses of the oppo- 
nent are great and his armoostia is consequently 
small, the macheeide will force him into energetic 
action. And if the opponent holds a strong posi- 
tion, the macheeide will v/eaken his armoostia by 
threatening effects. The maneuvres of the ma- 
cheeide are in every case calculated to achieve 
machic work. 

The magnitude of the work that a group of 
stratoi can perform under all the varying possible 
conditions that may present themselves in a 
machee^ is an index of the machic value of that 
group and may. briefly be called its "value." We 

31 



do not do violence to the word by this definition. 
Although the world does not like to lay down an 
immutable measure when the value of persons and 
institutions have to be determined, who would dis- 
pute, that the only fundamentally objective man- 
ner, to fix values for things, is to denote them as 
equal to the capacity for doing work that these 
things possess? 

The work obtained from a group of stratoi dur- 
ing the machee by the macheeide, is in proportion to 
the value of that group. This proposition Is capable 
of rigorous demonstration. Let us suppose that at 
the commencement of the machee, the enemy being 
far away, the macheeide be given the choice to in- 
corporate one of two groups of stratoi, A and B, 
into its army. It will undoubtedly decide in favor 
of the group of stratoi possessing the greater 
capacity for work, since A and B are of use to 
it only in so far as they aid in the solution of 
machic tasks. But the macheeide cannot be mis- 
taken in its forecast, for it could, if it wanted, pre- 
dict the whole course of the coming struggle. Hence 
it will in that struggle derive the greater advan- 
tage from the group of stratoi of greater value. 

We shall call this proposition the principle of 
work or the principle of value. 

In order to obtain the largest results from an 
army of stratoi a task of minor importance should 
be deputed to a stratos of minor value. The duty 
of performing a certain labor or function lowers the 
armoostia of a stratos for other purposes and hence 
its capacity for doing other work. 

The hostile attack will by preference be direct- 
ed against stratoi having valuable functions to per- 
form. They must therefore be so posted and so 
well protected, that the adversary must make great 
sacrifices to drive them away or to annihilate them. 

52very maneuvre means exertion. In com* 

33 



pensation for it the maneuvre should bring an ad- 
dition to the effects of the stratoi or at least an 
approach towards greater effect. The decrease of 
the effect of hostile stratoi is hereby counted as a 
positive result. In the eumachic maneuvre the 
proportion between the effort and the increase of 
potential effect is a minimum. The larger the 
potential effect the greater is the exertion which the 
opponent must make to avoid losses. 

Whether one should regard this as a definition 
or an axiom depends mainly on the standpoint from 
which one regards these considerations. In any 
case, the last proposition does not admit of proof. 

Whoever claims capacity, should attempt to 
produce a result. Neither originality nor the lack 
of it, not the ability to execute a task if one wanted 
to, nor the criticism of works of others, nor cour- 
age, self-confidence or a feeling of superiority count, 
but solely the final achievement. 

Merely to destroy an existing condition or to 
deny an assertion that finds credence or to block an 
enterprise that is supported is doing work by half. 
Everything that exists has some claim for exist- 
ence ; a supporting raison d'etre, without which the 
thing would die of its own accord. Let us for an 
example take the robber instinct as an extreme 
case. Bad as it is, in combination with the prin- 
ciple of justice it is an element of the force that 
helps to make the far sighted and venturesome but 
constructive merchant or the vigorous and saga- 
cious statesman. And in a society that forgets its 
responsibility to care for all its members in a sense 
of charitable justice, the thief, in forcibly directing 
attention to the crying needs, acts as beneficial as 
pain to a sick body. A macheeide searches for the 
good and before applying the force of destruction 
takes measures to preserve what might be of ser- 

32 



vice in future. In the business office, in the family, 
in social and public life, in fact in every machee a 
compensating productive activity must go hand in 
hand with aggressiveness and destruction. 



It is not the character of a man that generates 
love or hate but the effect ascribed to him. 



In society there are chiefly two methods of 
reward, that of capacity and of achievement. ' An 
achievement can be measured. To discover the 
capacity of a man is a difficult task. Where it is 
made the measure, the gate is thrown open to mis- 
interpretation of motives and obscuration of 
achievements. 

In a macheeide society, according to the prin- 
ciple of values, both methods of rewarding would 
lead to identical results. 

A society which rewards its members according 
to their achievement, produces zeal for work where 
it is of most use and therefore approaches most 
rapidly the macheeide state. 

Know thyself, or else thou wilt be unable to 
tell what kind of work thou canst perform and what 
rewards thou darest expect. 

Examine all things, without any exception, as 
to their effect and the effort which they cost, and 
value them accordingly. 



34 



THE PRINCIPLE OF ECOMOMY 



According to its nature and definition the 
macheeide is infinitely economical with the machic 
energy at its disposal. Hence he who strives to ap- 
proach the perfection of a macheeide must make it 
his maxim not to decide on a maneuver that brings 
an advantage, before having examined all other 
possible maneuvers, in order to ascertain, whether 
by postponing the above maneuvre or by abandon- 
ing it and deciding upon another not a greater ad- 
vantage might be derived. This proposition is so 
obviously true that it sounds commonplace. But, 
strange to say, the advice is seldom followed. Be 
it, that the prospect of gaining a success lessens the 
critical faculties, or be something else the cause, 
mediocrity invariably falls into the snare of snatch- 
ing an immediate success, where it can be had at 
slight exertion, although frequently the result 
achieved falls infinitely below the possible. Blind 
eagerness to reap an advantage is the stamp that 
nature has put on mediocritv. 

The seduction to act prematurely is never so 
great as when the opponent prepares an attack. 
One is then tempted to make a maneuver of de- 
fense. But the macheeide abstains from any such 
action unless it is forced by the enemy's maneu- 
vers. For on the one side every parry consumes 
energy, on the other hand the opponent saves the 
energy that he would have to spend in order to 
force the safeguarding maneuver and he is there- 
fore enabled to direct his attack against another 
weakness with telling force. 

35 



In every machee the first defensive maneuvre 
is the formation of a wall. As follows from the 
above consideration the macheeide will nowhere 
make the wall stronger than is necessary for its 
function, and will push it so far into the field 
that it is barely able to withstand the pressure of the 
enemy so that, by a small sacrifice, the enemy may 
force the wall back. But be it understood that the 
peril will be grave to advance beyond this point, 
for then the enemy will fbe able, by eumachic 
action, to obtain a success without loss. Usually 
it is not hard to determine the points where the 
walls of the opponents should meet. They will 
lie on the line of equal pressure. 

To abstain from any defense as long as the 
threats of the opponent can be parried without 
preparation, is a task demanding courage and sharp 
intelligence. Before a decision is come to, the 
threatening danger has to be accurately analyzed 
and the question, whether the danger is real or 
apparent has to be examined. 

In order that a defensive maneuvre should 
conform to the principle of economy, it must be 
executed with the least effort that is sufficient. 

And even, if the macheeide cannot obviate 
losses, it attempts to satisfy the principle of 
economy in acting so that the surplus of its loss 
in energy over that of the opponent is a minimum. 
Oblivious of the approaching misfortune, it ana- 
lyses the danger thoroughly and finds the maneuvre 
that is in accordance wath the above rule. The 
macheeide is therefore not subject to panic fear. It 
is objective even under trying circumstances. 

This then is the all important but much sinned 
against strategy of eumachic defense. Let the de- 
fender occupy the position of greatest armoostia, 
let him dispose his forces so. that in all directicrs, 
whence an attack is to be apprehended, his resist- 

36 



ance have the same strength, so that there be no 
weak points in his armor. But under fire he must 
cling to the position so chosen, immobile like an 
attacked porcupine, until forced to action. And 
he must under all circumstances faithfully follow 
the commands of the principle of economy. 
There is little of glory for the defender. The suc- 
cessful aggressor satisfies the craving that a multi- 
tude has for the spectacular and romantic — be the 
machee one of war. of art, or politics, of business or 
whatever kind — and is therefore rewarded by an 
abundance of honors. Yet deeds that in their 
nature are purely defensive, such as the faithful 
execution of a commission or a temporary stand 
against odds to cover a retreat, are often as efifec- 
tive, and may be as heroic, as a brilliant over- 
throw of a hostile position. The aggressor of 
genius puts a high value on those to whom he can 
depute a defensive task. He realizes that each de- 
tachment of force placed so as to be ready to parry 
potential blows that often are never struck draws 
upon his store of aggressive weapons. He knows 
that it is precisely his ability to ward ofif implied 
threats by a barely sufficient minimum of exertion 
which provides him with the means to follow ag- 
gressive tactics even under difficulties. This same 
faculty permits him to foresee the maneuvres of the 
defender and to detect the weakness of the enemy 
that he may attack quickly and with momentum. 

In view of the generality of machic concep- 
tions we need not wonder, if these considerations 
have a larger application than at first appears. The 
maxims of the strategy of defense are not only 
valid in a contest between two or more parties, 
they retain their force when a man wrestles with a 
task and they are therefore of particular value for 
the artist and man of science. 

In this connection the principles are of special 

37 



interest; for to the striving artist or thinker they 
are a compass which, in spite of the infinite 
variety of roads that he may wander, shows him 
the right way. The artist dominates the technical 
means of his art — words, color, sounds, matter to 
be moulded — and he wants to create a work that 
sets the sentiment of the beholder into a determined 
motion. The thinker sees a riddle and he wants 
to solve its mystery. The machic field is the sen- 
timental or intellectual life of human society. The 
energy of the machee of both, the artist and the 
scientist, is the attention of society. They fail in 
their effort when their work does not arouse and 
sustain the interest of the beholder and student. 
They will always succeed in their endeavor, if their 
idea appeals, and if they express it in its entirety, 
with all that it implies, but with the least means. 
For, be it, that humanity instinctively loves truth 
before all, or that it hates superfluous effort more 
than anything else, an idea which is clearly ex- 
pressed and economical in its execution has an 
irresistible power of impressing those to whom it 
is suggested. On the other hand, an exertion with- 
out sfiicient motive is felt as an affectation, almost 
as an attempt to impose an untruth upon us, and 
we invariably call it ugly. 

A writer will prefer short words to long ones, 
words that are deeply rooted in our intellect to 
those that have been learnt at a later period of our 
development, and variety to repetition. He will use 
associated ideas for transition from one paragraph 
to another, and he will avoid unnecessary precision 
that obliges the reader to think sharply. For in 
this way the reader needs the least effort for being 
attentive. An actor whose task it is to credibly 
represent a dramatic person by word and action 
should never make an effort by gesture or emphasis 
except where he thereby greatly facilitates the task 

38 



of the spectator of comprehending the person. If 
he overacts his part we are put out of humor. 

Those who view with disfavor an attempt to 
subject the beautiful to an analytical research 
should read criticisms of acknowledged value deal- 
ing with works of art and artists. The critic de- 
mands the use of the simplest means and complete 
exhaustion of the motif, and he condemns every- 
thing that is unnecessarily fatiguing. He insists, 
for instance, on accuracy, sharp characterization 
and intelligible rendering. What he otherwise de- 
mands, refers to the technical skill of the artist or 
to the idea underlying the work, but not to the 
execution. We appear therefore entitled to draw 
the conclusion that the creative artist should strive 
for naught else than to produce effects by propor- 
tionate means, as the principle of economiy re- 
quires. — The comprehension of work of econom.ical 
execution is always accompanied by pleasure 
which is especially strong if the work is apparent- 
ly not economical. The effect of witty remarks 
can be traced to this source. They are often ap- 
parently ubiquitous or contain apparent repetitions 
but they are in fact precise and to the point. 

A work which has a manifest lack of economy 
and which thereby illustrates often committed 
errors is always humorous. The efforts of a clown 
or long sentences composed of well sounding 
words that have no meaning, or caricatures are 
instances. 



Some years ago Wagner wrote the book on the 
simple life which created a great impression. As I 
view it, simplicity, in the sense as used by the 
French author, is synonymous with economy. A 
task is "simply" executed if it is done without giv- 
ing attention to any other purpose. The simple 
man strives therefore to attain economy, because an 

39- 



effort, which is unnecessary for the end, that he has 
set himself, will appear to him as entirely wasted. 
For the same reason we may always be sure that 
a complicated proceeding is due to a variety of 
aims. A complicated person has, unknowingly per- 
haps, another motive besides this one, which, as 
he wants us to believe, impels him. As a rule com- 
plication is caused by an often unconscious desire 
to draw attention to fine possessions, such as 
wealth or beauty or nice traits of character. But 
true beauty is simple, because it conforms to the 
principle of economy. And, as the old proverb 
Simplex sigillum veri tells us, also the laws of 
nature are simple. 



4C 



BALANCE AND ADVANTAGE 



In the development of a set of deliberations, 
whether they are called a science or not, there must 
come a moment when a desire for exact reasoning 
makes itself felt. The brain when meeting withxa 
new line of thought is at first happy to rom.p about 
hither and thither among things intellectual, and 
quite ready to play with another in the same man- 
ner. But the moment that a line of investigation 
is consistently followed, and the intellect, taking a 
glance backwards, measures the large distance that 
has been covered, it suddenly loses its playfulness, 
becomes afraid and diffident and, for the purpose of 
making sure of not having been deceived, rigor- 
ously investigates, what it before had been easily 
persuaded to take for granted. 

This trait is a health}^ one. To suppress it, as 
many nations have done in matters pertaining to 
religion, social customs and traditions, arrests one 
of the sources from which progress and happiness 
spring. If it is given full sway, if the whole truth 
and nothing but the truth is admitted, the brain 
gains in power of conquest as well a.s strength of 
resistance against superstition and sophistry, be- 
cause the critical faculty, like any other human 
faculty, develops when given exercise. 

It would be an error to think that a scientist, as 
such, has no beliefs. The man who wanted to 
prove everything could establish nothing. Every 
system of assertions needs a set of axioms as a 
foundation, because all demonstration is at bottom 
only a logical reduction to a more readily granted 
truth. And it may be taken as a general maxim 
that the simpler and the more natural these axioms 
are. the fitter for their purpose they will be judged 
to be. 



In our investigation we have now come to a 
point w^here certain abstract conceptions have to 
be defined and explained and studied. It is true 
that many experiences have made us familiar with 
these conceptions, but this is all the more reason 
why we should care to find out, whether we have 
known them really well, and whether we have es- 
timated them at their true value. It is, therefore, 
only fair to those who want to be critical, as well 
as to ourselves, if we want to do away with our 
embarrassing anl perhaps hidden uncertainties and 
doubts, to state a complete set of axioms upon which 
the theory, that will be developed, can rest. 

Our first assumption is: When all parties to a 
machee are led by macheeides, no proposal of what- 
ever kind can be welcome to all of them, though it 
may be indifferent to all of them. If men are the 
leaders of the various parties interested in the ma- 
chee, there are reasons why the assumption should 
not be true. Men may be mistaken in their judgment 
of the consequences of machic maneuvres, they may 
esteem an advantage what is the reverse. Besides, 
it is usually impossible to limit men's interests or 
even to enumerate all the parties in some way con- 
cerned in a machee. But macheeides have a per- 
fect judgment; and their interests are entirely iden- 
tical with that of the party they represent in the 
machee. 

Our second axiom is that of continuity. Accord- 
ing to a Latin proverb, Nature does not jump. A 
transition from one state to another is always con- 
tinuous. We assume this to be true also in a ma- 
chee and, therefore, lay down the principle: If in 
any continuous series of machic situations a cer- 
tain proposal is welcome to a party when the situ- 
ation is as on the one end of the series and unwel- 
come when the position of affairs is as on the other 
end, some intermediate situation must exist where 

4a 



that proposal is indifferent to the party. Let us 

now consider the following situation : 

An arsenal is filled with weapons, men, horses, 
etc., in short with stratoi of various kinds. Its 
commander orders a macheeide whose name is M, 
to collect from it a force of sufficient strength to 
keep in check an enemy E, who is suspected of hos- 
tile designs. At the same time he requests M 
to be as sparing in its demands of stratoi as is 
possible. 

E is commanded by a macheeide, to which it is 
entirely indifferent how many stratoi are annihi- 
lated, as long as it can attain certain aims, that it 
hopes to further by war. 

The question is, what will M do under these cir- 
cumstances? 

We assume that if it demanded all the stratoi 
of the arsenal it could defeat E. Otherwise the 
question would have no meaning, as M could in no 
way make it profitable to E to abstain from war. 
We also suppose that, if M had no force at all to 
oppose E, E would attain its aims. 

As to the forces in the arsenal, let us imagine, 
that they are of such varying degrees of strength 
and can be so finely subdivided that M may take 
from it any desired quantity of jonts of various 
kinds. In real life this might, of course, not be 
so. A soldier, for instance, could not be subdivided, 
yet we are entitled to the supposition that we have 
made because its unreality does not invalidate the 
logical reasoning applied to an imaginary case. 

Now let us construct any arbitrary continuous 
series of jonts from nothing to the full limit of 
the arsenal. A proposal to E to begin war against 
an a.rmy composed by a certain element of that series 
of jonts, will be welcome when that element is on 
the one end, unwelcome when it is on the other end 
of the series. Hence, somewhere in the mjddle of 

43 



the series, according to our second axiom, there 
must be an element which , placed under M, would 
make the war a matter of indifference to E. 

That element, it will be said, holds the balance 
to E. 

If M and E went to war in the state of machic 
balance, neither M nor E could further their aims 
in any way, or else the war would be welcome to 
one, unwelcome to the other, and could not be in- 
different to either of them. Hence we can say : 
In a balanced machee between two macheeides 
neither side can make progress towards its aims. 

Or else : 

In a balanced position the struggle of a machee- 
ide against a general who occasionally commits 
mistakes, cannot be in favor of the general, no 
matter, how ingenious his maneuvres might be. 

Or else: 

In a balanced position there is a sufficient de- 
fense against every attack. 

Let us now return to the struggle between M 
and its enemy. Having by some means discovered 
the requisite number of jonts that will ensure a 
balanced machee, M will collect its army from the 
arsenal and will then place it into a favorable posi- 
tion. For this purpose an imperfect mind would 
have to investigate a large number of attacks that 
E might undertake with the object of gaining ad- 
vantages ; it would to that end have to analyze 
the process, by which E would gain one of the 
advantages in question, find out many ways, how 
to stop the advancing stratoi of E, and then ar- 
range its troops in such a manner, as would per- 
mit them to easily parry many of the anticipated 
blows. A macheeide might follow the same meth- 
od, but more thoroup"hly and exhaustively, and it 
would therefore finally dispose its stratoi in a po- 
sition of large, if not of maximum armoostia. 

44 



If in a machee between two macheeides the pro- 
posal is made to them to transpose the position 
into another which is balanced, according to the 
first axiom one of them would accept, the other 
one refuse, unless the proposition is indifferent to 
both of them. In the latter case, the original po- 
sition can only be a balanced one, for if there were 
any attack in that position that had no sufficient de- 
fense, there would be a reason why one side would 
reject the proposal. In the first case, the side that 
would refuse the proposal is said to have the "ad- 
vantage," its antagonist the ''disadvantage." In a 
balanced position neither side has the advantage. 

The party which has the advantage can make 
an attack which admits of no sufficient defense. 
For otherwise the position would be balanced, and 
the macheeide w^ould have had no sufficient rea- 
son to refuse the proposal above stated. 

We have here introduced the words attack and de- 
fense without a definition. An attack is a pro- 
cess, in the course of which usually big effects are 
achieved by the stratoi of both parties, and in 
which one side aims at a certain purpose while the 
other side attempts to defeat it. The purpose may 
be nothing more than to exclude the opponent from 
a portion of the field; it may be. as great as the an- 
nihilation of an army; it may, in short, have vary- 
ing degrees of value. In any case it is such that 
its achievement would further the aim of one of 
the combatants. 

The defense either prevents the aggressor from 
gaining his end or else puts him before tire alter- 
native of paying a high price for the execution of his 
desire or of abandoning it. All this can readily be 
shown from the propositions stated above, which 
would be manifestly untrue if attack and defense 
signified anything wider or lesser. 

There are varying degrees of advantages. For 

45 . . 



let A and D denote two macheeide antagonists, 
of which A has the advantage; and let the propo- 
sal be made to them to agree to a slight change 
in the position. Either A consents, then the 
change would be advantageous to it and a detri- 
ment to D. Or A refuses, then the converse would 
take place. Or, the macheeide might be indifferent, 
then the situation would not be affected as far 
as an approach towards the aim of the machee 
is concerned. Hence it follows : 

The greater the advantage of a party, the more 
profitable is the attack that it can successfully 
carry through. 

The principle of work gives us means at hand 
to classify advantages. The machic work done 
being the measure of the approach towards the aim, 
it follows, that the side holding the advantage can 
do more work than the other. This can result 
from two causes, from the greater number or the 
greater turnout of the workers. Hence we may 
speak of numerical or positional advantages. And, 
since also the undoing of hostile work counts in 
the sum total of work done, and the field may be 
used as "cover" against effects of the enemy, the 
positional advantage may again be subdivided as 
due to the field or to the better arrangement of the 
forces. 

Let us suppose that the two hostile armies are 
very far apart, so that their pressure upon each 
other is a negligible quantity. Then the question, 
which of the two sides has the advantage, can be 
definitely settled. Remembering that under these 
circumstances a macheeide will obtain more work 
from the group of stratoi of greater value, we may 
say: In a machee of two opponents that are far 
apart, the army of greater value has the advantage. 

Consequently the weaker army must seek for 
counterbalancing advantages, such as would ac- 

40 



crue from the nature of the field or positional ar- 
rangement. But if it would fight where the field 
did not favor it, it could obtain positional advan- 
tage only on account of a mistake by its opponent, 
because the latter possesses the advantage and 
cannot be deprived of it as long as his maneuvres 
are eumachic. It follows then : The weaker side 
can be forced to fly or to seek refuge in the parts 
of the field favoring it. 

All these propositions are true only in contests 
between macheeides. Nevertheless, even for the 
struggles between erring mortals they are of im- 
mense usefulness. 

The man who, in an important machee has to 
decide on the strategy to be followed, relies on his 
mental work. By inspection and by every other 
available means he gathers information on the po- 
sition of affairs and thus sets his imagination at 
work to discover, what he has to fear and to de- 
termine his line of attack. Very often he gets 
wearied trying to construe an attack, only to find, 
that in each one of his attempts, may they be ever 
so ingenious, there is a slight flaw somewhere. 
Again often he sees a danger approaching, and can- 
not foresee its result. Even if he remains cool 
and takes the best means for the defense, the un- 
certainty of the outcome wears him down. 

Now consider the position of this man when he 
is told, that his side has a slight advantage. His 
uncertainty and weariness are brushed away. For 
if an attack is directed against his side, he knows 
beforehand, that, however dangerous it may ap- 
pear to be, in reality there must somewhere be a 
resource ready at hand, which will turn the attack 
and that possibly he may inflict decisive defeat on 
the enemy. Again, if he assumes the aggresive, 
he knows, that he has the right to expect some 
small gain, because of his slight advantage. 

47 



Or let him know that he has a slight disadvan- 
tage, he will then at the outset realize that he 
must avoid aggressive action and look for safety 
in a firm position. He will not push his 'Vail" 
quite so far as the antagonist. Should the enemy 
press him hotly, he has the comfort to know, that 
with best defense his loss can at the worst not be 
very severe, as it must be in proportion to his dis- 
advantage that is only slight. The attack of the 
opponent even gives him the hope to retrieve his 
fortunes, for in the violent actions of a lively ag- 
gressive movement large effects may be rapidly 
achieved. 

In either case, before he begins his search to find 
the right strategic maneuver, he is assured that the 
heart-rending experience of v/earily and patiently 
seeking a phantom will not be his. 

The methods of driving an advantage home, di- 
versified as they are, have a few common traits of 
which, in what follows, a sketch is drawn, that, 
however, makes no claim on accuracy or penetrat- 
ing analysis. If the armoostia of the opponent is 
small and if one is not pressed for time, it is ad- 
visable simply to cut off the retreat of the enemy. 
This cannot be a difficult task. The foe is then 
obliged to make a desperate attack or to surrender. 
But if the gain of time is important, it is necessary 
to conduct an attack without much preparation. 
The onslaught must of course be directed against 
the greatest weaknesses, as shown in the chapter 
Strategy. The attack must strike quick blows, 
every maneuver must be calculated to increase the 
immediate effects of the stratoi, until one vital spot 
of the enemy after another is vulnerated. 

To carry through such an attack, a very large 
preponderance of force in the decisive points is, 
however, necessary. Otherwise, against a cool- 
headed and enduring enemy, the attack may end 
in disastrous retreat. 

48 



Although we use the terms of warfare, we may 
apply these considerations to pacific pursuits, such 
as, for instance, the invention of a patent. The 
enemy is in this case the inherent difficulty of the 
task, and the stratoi are our braincells. When the 
inventor has brushed some of the obstacles away, 
the armoostia of the enemy has decreased to that 
extent. Patient investigation of the problem from 
all its various aspects is the right strategy, unless 
one is pressed for time. In that case a battle of the 
brave braincells against the stubborn enemy will ensue, 
in which many heroic deeds, if the task be difficult, 
have to be performed before the victory is achieved. 

If the armoostia of the foe is large, it is neces- 
sary, before a forceful attack can be aimed at him, 
to lower his armoostia. Whether this is possible 
depends altogether on the situation and mobility 
of his weaknesses. Even if only one of his weak- 
nesses can be attacked, there is almost the cer- 
tainty of a great victory. The attacked weakness 
requires a defense, the defensive force may be at- 
tacked, another parry is forced and so, little by 
little, the armoostia of the enemy is exhausted by 
threats. If, after continuation of this process one 
has still unemployed force, whereas all the pov/ef 
of the enemy has been drawn into action, a deci- 
sive victory may be attained, by assailing with the 
reserve force a vital point. 

A philosophical dispute or a legal contest is an 
example for such a machee. The party that 
holds the advantage forces the opponent to submit- 
to the decision of questions, so as to impede both 
parties equally in their choice of arguments. At 
the end some argument decides, that, by dint of the 
preceding decisions, has become unanswerable. 

The process described above is greatly facili- 
tated, if two equal forces of the opponents enter 
into a contest or "bind" each other. And it is 

49 



quickened, if they annihilate each other, unless the 
enemy rids himself thereby cheaply of a stratos of 
small armoostia that might draw him into a big 
action. The weaker side must therefore avoid to 
bind its forces and rather resign weaknesses of 
small armoosita to their fate than risk a decisive 
engagement, unless in a very favorable position. 

In fencing, boxing, jiu-jitsu and other physical 
struggles the forces of the two combatants "bind" 
each other when fatigue is produced. It is there- 
fore advantageous for the stronger party to fatigue 
the opponent, even though he wears himself out in 
an equal ratio. He can accomplish this by force, 
in making threatening motions that require for 
their defense as much exertion as the assailant gives 
out for their execution. And if the weaker side 
makes an attack, it should be the policy of the 
party which holds the advantage in strength not 
to merely evade but rather take the blow, in whole 
or in part, and give one of equal vehemence in re- 
turn. In fencing, however, such tactics are very dif- 
ficult of execution, because of the usually danger- 
ous nature of the wounds produced. 

The problem is greatly complicated if great 
strength is opposed by great armoostia. It would 
then even be difficult to determine which side has 
the advantage. In spite of the disparity in 
strength the struggle may be balanced, as the box- 
ing encounter between Sullivan and Kilrain exem- 
plifies. Everything then depends on the "wall" 
that the stronger party can erect and the "pres- 
sure" it exerts, or, in ordinary language^ on the 
enclosure within which the struggle takes place, 
and the domain within which the opponents can 
deliver blows effectively If the stronger man by 
a slight movement can force the opponent to a 
quick movement, he gains to that extent, and he 
should finally wear down his antagonist. And if 

50 .__ .. .__^ 



the physically weaker man can deliver effective 
blows rapidly enough to escape a reply, the advan- 
tage lies with him. Whoever has the advantagfe, 
a violent attack of the inferior side, if correcdy 
parried, can only turn out to his loss, because, as 
we know, the machic superiority (or advantage) 
can in no way be shattered, if held by a macheeide. 

When the process of weakening the eye, the feet, 
the critical reflection, etc., has been going on for 
some time, the opportunities for vehement 
attack increase rapidly. When in fencing, for in- 
stance, the opponents can no more as surely see 
or as strongly and quickly move the wrist as at 
the commencement of the duel, the reserve, which 
had to be practised at the beginning, ceases to be nec- 
essary, and for the stronger party it would even be a 
mistake to continue that policy. He should then ex- 
pose himself to some extent, provided only, 
that by the attitude which he assumes, the 
number or the m-omentum of his threats also 
increase. The greater the fatigue of the two sides, 
the more profitable becomes the policy of aggres- 
sion. The attack has of course to be aimed at the 
greatest weaknesses of the antagonist, as the prin- 
ciples of strategy, previously discussed, illustrate. 
If, for example, a fencer has succeeded, by a fre- 
quent repetition of the same rhythm of strokes in 
fatiguing the attention of his opponent, he should 
assail the corresponding weakness by rapidly making 
a thrust which utterly breaks the rhythm and re^, 
quires quick conception for its successful parry. 

Let us now consider a machee in which men are 
daily engaged but which they seldom conceive as a 
struggle, the understanding of a truth or the criti- 
cal acceptance of an impression. To begin with let 
us study the field. 

The brain is an organized army of cells or, let 
us say, of elemental organs of life. By impinge- 

. .. ..^. -. ., P .- 



ment with waves of matter producing sound, light, 
smell or taste, an organism that by heredity and 
adaptation has become particularly sensitive to 
such impressions, communicates through an elec- 
trolytic process the disturbance to the brain. To 
speak in general and less definite terms, a move- 
ment coming from outside, travelling along nerve 
wires, produces a state of commotion in the brain 
cells. As movements in Nature never have an end, 
the vibration in the brain, which we may term an 
idea, slowly passes "out of it, until it sets the 
muscles in motion to transform itself into laughter, 
weeping, gestures and other movements. In this 
process the original idea, in continually weaken- 
ing and spreading, produces motions corresponding 
to sets of other ideas but with diminished intensity. 
These are the ideas associated with the original im- 
pulse, which, as the idea is given time to work its 
way, insensibl}^ fade below the level of conscious- 
ness. They are productive of the state of low con- 
sciousness that we call dreaming. 

Within each cell the idea creates a chemical pro- 
cess, which consumes some substance that has to 
be replaced by the blood. In acting thus, the idea 
overcomes a resistance, because no movement can 
initiate another without being weakened thereby. 
According to a general biological law, any change 
in the composition of a live organism produces 
fatigue; and pain, if the fatigue is great. The 
pain of the braincells shows itself in lack of atten- 
tion and loss of interest and, if aggravated, in dis- 
gust. We have no reason to doubt that each idea 
produces a slight degree of pain, because Nature 
never jumps from one state to another but con- 
nects them by states of continuous transition. The 
cells offering a large resistance to the idea are 
materially affected by it and so altered that they 
lose their identity. This fact is comparable to 



others that we know of elastic bodies. They will 
oscillate into their original position, if subjected 
to a small strain, but they will break or at least 
become loosened, if the energy of the strain \s be- 
yond a certain limit of intensity. Hence, the idea, 
in reforming some cells of large resistance, weakens 
the total resistance. And if we are again subjected 
to the commotion causing the idea, we offer les.-> 
resistance to it. Thus an idea, often repeated, 
paves itself a road of least resistance and its force 
gains in degree. 

Let now several commotions follow each other 
in so rapid succession that they have not sufficient 
time to set up the state peculiar to each of them. 
Then a complicated commotion will ensue which is 
painful unless the ideas bear a relation towards 
each other which we might call harmonious. A 
piece of music may serve as an example. Each in- 
dividual note is an impulse to which a certain vibra- 
tory state in the musical centre of the brain corre- 
sponds. If, before this vibration has ceased, another 
is superimposed, the dreamy, half-conscious com- 
motion due to the first note is still in existence 
while the full force of the second tonal attack is 
developed. The dying motion due to the first 
tone may support the energy of the second tone, 
then we have harmony. If they antagonize each 
other, we have discord. The same is true of 
color. To each color there corresponds another v/ith 
which it is most in harmony, and this correspond- 
ence is the same for all human beings. Red and" 
green are, for instance, so related. Nor is there 
any reason to doubt, that we may speak also of 
harmonious smells or tastes or even of harmonious 
thoughts. 

All this is equally true of a sequence of brain 
motions. Their harmony is greater if the fatigue 
that they produce is less. Harmony, in the wide 

53 • , , 



sense, as here understood, is therefore aided by the 
judicious selection of rhythm and by such variety 
as would cause a multitude of cells to oscillate and 
the strain upon the individual cells to be slight. 

Intense harmonies produce a rapture, in which 
the interest is chained to one subject and which 
sets us dreaming. Then we are in the land, which 
we never leave without regret but, alas, dare never 
visit without paying the toll that fatigue finally de- 
mands. 

Harmony as here defined is a conception ap- 
plicable to every art and to every science and to every 
series of actions intended to be viewed and mental- 
ly understood by others. Men possess a critical 
sense of harmony in varying degrees. The heaven- 
born artist has it highly developed. A creative 
genius has it, wherefore he is often equally perfect 
in various directions. 

In common with any other trait of live organ- 
isms, it is developed by judicious exercise and 
dwarfed by neglect. The exercise determines the 
direction of its growth. If Raphael had, by some 
chance, in his youth acquired a taste for mathe- 
matics, he would, by reason of his sense of har- 
mony, have become a great discoverer. And if 
Newton, in his period of development, had been in- 
spired with as intense interest for the drama as he 
had for intellectual research, another Shakespeare 
would have arisen. 

Very different from the receptive process, that 
has been described above, is the creative activity 
which may broadly be called ''reflection." If a 
man ponders, he wants to solve a riddle that inter- 
ests him. This desire prompts him to disconnect 
his brain from outward impressions and to search. 
As an insect puts forth its feelers to obtain an im- 
pression of such properties of the environment as 
interest it, a mechanism in the brain sends out 

54 



thought impulses in order to study the corresponding 
motion. And as the insect stops in its search when 
it believes it has achieved its purpose, so a critical 
faculty puts on its brake, when imagination has 
been sufficiently active. This instinctive criticism not 
only performs the important function of stopping the 
outflow of energy due to the working of imagination 
but it directs the outflow while in progress. It is 
therefore of as great value for achievement as 
imagination. The mechanism of reflection is not 
in order unless the critical and imaginative faculty 
are adjusted to each other. 

The critical capacity is, as all instincts, a sub- 
conscious memory of past failures and successes, 
to which heredity has contributed the greater and 
individual effort the smaller share. 

The field and some of the stratoi having been 
described let us now investigate one of the many 
machees that may here take place. A man, dis- 
tinguished by no especial gifts, in his character as 
a unit of society may serve as prototype. Every 
one of his actions impresses others as well as him- 
self. An act of his cannot but start an "idea" in 
those with whom he comes into contact or at least 
in himself. His traits of selfish enjoyment or al- 
truistic sacrifice^ of subjective reasoning or justice, 
of sympathy and appreciation for others or quick- 
ness to condemn and hate, of willingness to work 
or of readiness to use the efforts of others de- 
termine his doings and these react conversely in 
moulding his character. What he sees others do 
has an equal influence upon him. If his sense of 
justice does not rebel against ruling customs which 
are unjust, it withers. If he does not exercise it, 
it is dwarfed. There is an irresistible unconscious 
reciprocity about men and things. If a man tries 
to make others glad, they will unknowingly try to 
make him glad. No lie will pass long under the 

SS 



continual scrutiny that is silently exerted. A man 
who has no regard for truth will lie even if he is 
dumb. The lie of vanity, of fear, the malicious lie, 
will translate themselves into action, and the ob- 
server may detect them by some uneconomic ex- 
ertion, that shows the imagination of the liar at 
work when the truthful man would enjoy rest. 

Hia desire for truth and his sense of justice, his 
capacity for sympathy and for work are there- 
fore the essential elements of a man's char- 
acter. They are instincts capable of development 
as of degeneration. It is within the range of a 
man's ability to strengthen these traits by ad- 
herence to strategic principles. According to Dar- 
win's law, and in uniformity with our previous ex- 
planation, each economic effort in the right direc- 
tion makes the next effort easier. If the effort is 
not economic, there is waste of vital energy and 
loss in efficiency, because the critical instinct is 
misguided at least to the extent of that one ex- 
perience. Thus the principles of work and of econo- 
my are here of great importance. 

Also the laws regarding machic advantage have 
here a meaning. To see this clearly, it is necessary 
that we should locate and identify the enemy. The 
foe is a desire to enjoy without equivalent effort, 
and it is represented in a thousand different forms. 
It is reinforced by tasks set us, of caring for our 
body and of conforming to our responsibilities to 
others. Vanity as such is by no means inimical. 
The machic aim is to be happy, and that is im- 
possible unless we are happy with others, but it is 
equally impossible without the propelling power of 
self love or ambition. Only in so far as vanity 
makes us unjust or subjective and thereby becomes 
antagonistic to the purpose in view, have we to 
classify it as a hostile stratos. 

We make an ''attack" in this machee when we 

56 



strive for happiness. In our present day society, 
I fear that we lay too little stress on the glad feel- 
ings. Joy is Nature's reward for acting right and 
much better than any substitute that man has in- 
vented to take its place. 

The outlines of the battle are now drawn. There 
are easy roads to purchase happiness by a small 
effort, but only for a little time. Alcohol, cocaine, 
or other nerve irritators, form a hostile battalion. 
Untruth or unfair dealing, intended to obtain un- 
merited advantages, another. And we need only go 
through "Pilgrims' Progress" to sketch the whole 
battle array in detailed formation. If we do not de- 
fend ourselves against them, we are the losers, be- 
cause a depression com.pensates Nature, v/hich we 
may try to but cannot cheat. And, what is v/orse, 
our finely organized system of bra'ncells deteriorates 
in consequence. If, on the other hand, we do not 
enjoy ourselves when we are entitled to it, we 
also make a mistake in the machee. And, without 
analyzing the question further, we know from our 
previous strategic laws in respect to advantages, 
that each omission to profit by an opportunity is 
bound to benefit the enemy in some way. It is, 
consequently, essential to know, v/here we have 
the advantage and may attack, and where we must 
defend ourselves and when to develop our forces. 
And, generally, we must come to the conclusion, 
that in this machee all strategic laws that have 
been established as well as those that may in the 
future be discovered, must find expression and -ap- 
plication. 



57 



CHANCE 



An objection may be raised against the con- 
clusions drawn. How do we account for the 
rulings of chance that often determine a struggle? 
Will you answer us with the platitude that there is, 
fundamentally, no accident? Will you not admit 
that hazard must be a powerful factor in life, as 
long as we do not know the effects of all causes? 
Or are you arrogant enough to attempt to write 
for supermen? — 

These questions might legitimately be asked and 
may have been in the minds of readers of this book. 
Perhaps I should have declared at the outset, what 
place can be assigned to this inconvenient con- 
ception of luck and chance. It is true, even a 
macheeide, notwithstanding its infinite skill and 
genius, may become a victim to an unforeseen acci- 
dent. There are conditions where hazard rules so 
supreme, that such wisdom as can be obtained by 
men, however perfect, cannot predict the events. 
But in spite of all this, the deliberations of the pre- 
ceding chapters need only to be slightly modified 
to meet all objections, provided that we grant the 
law of probability. And experience has shown that 
this law can claim a high degree of accuracy at 
least. 

If on a round board with a number of holes a 
spherical ball is placed, if the board and ball are 
set in motion independently of each other and if 
the ball cannot rest on the board on account of its 
curvature, the ball will clearly have to come to rest 
in one of the holes. Should we ask a physicist 
into which hole the ball will finally drop, he would 
reply with a number of queries. What is the 

. . 58 



shape of the board? What is its substance? Of 
what matter does the ball consist? How many 
holes and how big are they? How are they placed 
and shaped? What was the position and the mo- 
tion of the board and of the ball at the beginning? 
What was the temperature of the room? How did 
its air circulate? After we have made the necessary 
measurements and replied to his questions, the man 
of science will be able to determine, by a compli- 
cated calculation, the course that the ball must take 
under the given conditions and where it finally 
must come to rest. But even then, he will have 
been obliged to treat some of the causes and cir- 
cumstances determining the event as negligible and 
his result will therefore only be a near approxi- 
mation. The result achieved in such a way de- 
pends on so many varying circumstances and costs 
an effort so disproportionate to its value that man- 
kind takes the liberty, in such and related cases, to 
treat all the causes as negligible. And it prefers to 
determine by experiment, how often in a large num- 
ber, for instance ten thousand trials, the ball will 
drop into each one of the holes, and is satisfied with 
the assumption that in a million trials the ball will 
drop about a hundred times oftener into each of the 
holes than in ten thousand trials, although this will 
not express the truth exactly. 

Whenever a multitude of causes determines an 
effect and the effect is greatly different when one 
of the causes is slightly varied we are in the same 
predicament. And we use the expedient of assign- 
ing a probability to an event whose causes we can- 
not or care not to investigate. 

The "probability" that an event happens under 
stated conditions is a fraction of the unit, that is 
intended to tell us the ratio of its happenings to its 
trials under above conditions. Thus we say that 
the probability that a die when thrown will show 

59 . , 



a two is i/6 impiying, that, if we throw it sixty 
times, it would probably show a two ten times, 
and if we throw it six thousand times it will prob- 
ably show a two a thousand times, etc. As fre- 
quently important events depend on chance, many 
are confused by the apparent injustice with which 
hazard deals out its rewards, and they imagine that 
a mystic power determines its decisions^ But they 
forget that he who is ignorant of the working of 
causes and yet dares to trust his fate to an effect 
determined by them, has m_ade no effort to merit 
preference before others similarly placed. Hence 
he has no claim except in conjunction with those 
who Tun the same hazard. And if the fate of 
these, collectively, is considered, it will be found 
to be subject to the rulings of an impartial justice. 

To illustrate this point, let us imagine, that the 
realization of an event yields us a benefit and its 
failure to realize inflicts a loss on us. We should 
consider the situation a disadvantage if the ratio of 
loss to benefit is in excess of the ratio of the prob- 
ability of the occurence of the event to the prob- 
ability of its non-occurrence. And under reverse 
conditions the situation is advantageous, while in 
case of equality of the ratios the position is neither 
worth a sacrifice nor to be avoided. To fix the ideas, 
let us assume that the probability of the event is 
i/io, hence the probability of its non-occurrence 
9/10, the value of the benefit 8, of the loss i. 

If a man, contrary to our advice, would subject 
himself to the working of the hazard, he might of 
course be successful. But all men who would thus 
act, considered in their aggregate, would sustain 
losses. For if the above probabilities are correct- 
ly measured, of one hundred thousand such men 
ten thousand would be gainers to the extent of 
eighty thousand units of value and the other nine- 
ty thousand, each losing a unit, would more than 

60 



counterbalance the gain. In time these men, 
though some of them may prosper, will as a class 
have forfeited values that they could have retained 
if they had acted according to the above stated 
principle. And again, let, under similar conditions, 
the benefit be worth nine units, the loss being one. 
The category of men who would make an exertion 
to avoid the risk would, after a time, not be in a 
better position than those who treated the question 
with indifference. Their exertion was therefore a 
complete waste. And finally, if under the same 
conditions the benefit had been ten units, those, 
who would avoid the risk would, as a class re- 
latively to those who dared be losers. 

These considerations must not only be applied 
to money, they refer to the most varied kinds of 
values. The pioneer in each branch of activity 
runs a great hazard. He attacks the unknown and 
he exposes himself thereby to losses in terms of 
vitality and happiness, to be rewarded, if he suc- 
ceeds, by the satisfaction of having conquered 
an obstacle to a social good, by the esteem 
of his compatriots sometimes, by the love of 
woman oftener and by a little of the things that 
Solomon called vain. A nation possessing many 
who dare a venture that is productive in our sense, 
will grow; another whose ablest pioneers, from 
lack of opportunity, assail unproductive issues, will 
deteriorate. And a nation that, for any reason, has 
lost its spirit of enterprise, must in a world full of 
opportunities be finally outdistanced. 

There is a feeling, in some countries, against 
running risks that can be avoided. To stake values 
on a hazard is there called immoral. But if these 
values are of intrinsically little importance, whaf 
does it matter if they are lost or transferred to 
other hands? — If they are of high worth, is not the 
gain also of the same quality? It is, of course, irri^ 



moral knowingly to induce others to run unprof- 
itable risks — and this immorality is rampant — but 
it is only imprudent to run them oneself. 

Let us now suppose, that in a machee the work- 
ing of causes is so hidden that even a macheeide 
■cannot discover it. (How will its strategic ma- 
neuvers be influenced? And how must our pre- 
ceding considerations be amended to meet the 
altered conditions ? 

The macheeide will investigate all circumstances 
that may be of value to it. This is merely an ap- 
plication of the principle of work. Where it can- 
not discern the causes of an effect, it will at least 
study the surrounding conditions and attempt to 
form a judgment by inference. But where it can, 
in no way, obtain information as to the outcome of 
an enterprise, it will be guided by the law of proba- 
bility, as we must conclude from v/hat has been 
stated . above. It will therefore treat the probable 
benefit accruing from an exertion or maneuver as 
if it were the real benefit, and it will consider the 
probable value of the exertion in the same light as 
if it were the real exertion. Thus the propositions 
in respect to strategy, the principle of work and the 
principle of economy will remain valid if only the 
word ''probable" is inserted before the words work, 
value, economy, pressure, weakness, wall, etc., as 
they occur. And. with this proviso, the state- 
ments in the chapter on balance and advantage 
will remain valid, because our previous reasoning 
will lose nothing in its force vv^hen this change is 
made. And indeed, we may even go further and 
assert, that no future discovery relating to machees, 
whose events are due to causes that can be thor- 
oughly investigated, can lose its value for machees 
where chance holds sway, provided only, that no 
new axioms are added to our own. If we admit, 
as we must, the law of probability, any logical con- 

62 



elusion valid in terms of work, exertion, etc., must 
remain true if applied to machees of chance, pro- 
vided only, that instead of work we speak of prob- 
able work, for exertion we substitute probable ex- 
ertion, etc. 



Wild beasts have a well developed sense for prob- 
abilities. They have their lair in the least accessible 
and least conspicuous places, and such as we would 
call in our terminology, the points of the least prob- 
bale pressure. In flight, they have a wonderful abili- 
ty to quickly discern the line of least pressure. It 
would be interesting to chase an animal by two dogs 
of about equal velocity and placed at the same dis- 
tance from it. Will the animal take the direction 
that halves the angle which it forms with the dogs? 
Very likely it would on a level plane. And when 
stones, woods, hills, knolls etc. are about, the animal 
would probably select the line of the least probable 
pressure, no matter how complicated the situation 
may be. Animals are quick to draw inferences. A 
wolf follows a trail made by a likely prey. If, warned 
by its excellent sense of smell, it thinks itself pur- 
sued, it runs to a knoll, not in a straight line but in 
a half circle, to bury itself there so that only the 
eyes show, and to watch whether its trail is followed. 
When it has made certain of that, it runs rapidly 
away. In the hunt for big game, it calls in a typical 
manner for aid from its comrades. In the search 
for prey the compan}^ disperses. 

Some insects have the wisdom or the instinct to 
seduce their foes to draw false inferences. When 
they fear attack they feign death. When the assail- 
ant is not deceived thereby, they rapidly fly. Many 
species of insects have two varieties, of which the 
birds find one suited to their taste, the other not. It 
oftens occurs that a tasty insect assumes the garb 
of the other variety. We may look upon all these, 



and related matters, as the natural result of the sur- 
vival of the fittest principle. But it remains, never- 
theless, a curious fact, how much of strategic acu- 
men is displayed by animals and how accurate 
is their judgment of the probabilities that mostly 
concern them. 

We know that in a balanced machee between tw^o 
parties, every possible attack has a sufficient de- 
fense. If hazard enters into the conditions of the 
machee, the probable gain accruing from an attack 
that is rightly met, will at most equal its probable 
loss. And if a macheeide has the advantage, the 
probable gains of its opponent will be inferior to its 
probable losses. Hence, if the machee between the 
two is often repeated, the macheeide will finally be 
the gainer. 

The roulette table and card games are simple 
instances of this kind. The advantage at rou- 
lette is with the bank. In consequence it wins, if a 
large number of bets are miade, whatever man- 
euvres the players might execute. Many believe 
that by following a suitable method, they can defeat 
the bank, and they attribute its success merely to the 
lack of system and to the large number of players. 
But this view is a decided error. The favorite 
method of increasing the stakes after a loss makes 
it very probable that the player will carry away a 
gain. But values so won are small, and they are 
more than counterbalanced by the loss of all the bets 
which must occur sometimes, because all accidents, 
or chains of accidents, however unlikely they may be, 
if they can happen at all, must happen occasionally. 
The player who increases his stakes after losses is 
very much like a man v/ho offers the odds of 200 to 
I when he should lay only 150 to i. He will win 
often but be a loser in the aggregate. The reverse 
system of increasing the amount of the bet in luck 

64 ... 



"with the money of the bank," as the players ex- 
press it, is equally faulty, because the higher the gain 
is at which the player aims the oftener he will lose 
small amounts, and the gain if finally secured, will 
not equal the sum of the losses. But it is entirely 
indifferent how one bets. One probably loses a cer- 
tain percentage — at Monte Carlo i^ — of the sum 
total of the risks run, in whatever parts and pro- 
portions and intervals from each other one may 
make them. 

In card games, such as Whist, Bridge and Skat, 
the guiding rule for the player is to objectively 
examine the situation and to always proceed so as 
to make -the probable gain a maximum, or, if a 
reverse cannot be avoided, the probable loss a mini- 
mum. There is no difficulty in calculating the prob- 
abilities of events occurring in card play except in so 
far as inferences may be drawn from the play and 
the personal element m.ay enter thereby. But in 
that case the question of finding the value for the 
probability of a surmised situation is only compli- 
cated and is by no means away from the grasp of 
the analytic mind, because inferences are after all 
only information plus a probability value. In all 
cases the probable gain of any maneuvre M can Be 
found, by noting all possible distributions — if in- 
ferences can be used as guide, some of these dis- 
tributions will be less probable than others, else they 
all will be equally probable — determining the gain 
of M in each one of these distributions, and finding 
the average of all these gains. 

And inferences add to the complication by ascrib- 
ing a larger or a lesser factor to each distribution 
according to its inferred probability. The player 
has to calculate the probable gains or losses of all 
possible maneuvres and finally to select the one 
that yields the largest probable profit. In practice, 
this calculation is often very easy. The skilled 

6s 



player has committed the probabilities of distribu- 
tion to memory and is guided by an unconscious 
process of quick mathematical reasoning that ex- 
perience has developed. Skat, Whist and Bridge 
are balanced machees. In a company of fine players, 
if they engage each other frequently at these games, 
the gains and losses are insignificant. 



And here it is perhaps in place to call attention 
to a human weakness to which a great deal of 
suffering is due and which strongly accentuates the 
advantages to be derived from the study of strategy. 

All the hundreds of thousands who in profitless 
wagers jeopoardise their dignity as men and waste 
their happiness, are victims of a false conception. 
One might believe that they are impelled merely by 
a too fervent spirit of daring. It is not so. It is 
the belief in a "system" which they have found, 
that lures them on. I have argued with many hun- 
dreds of men who were convinced of the excellence 
of some particular method of wagering on cards or 
roulette, or horse races^ or the rise and fall of shares 
etc. 

But although their error, critically examined, 
was manifest, I have not in a single instance 
succeeded in shaking their conviction. Their 
system was to them an adored fetish and they 
regarded with little kindness one who criticised it. 

In his heart every infatuated gambler adores such 
an idol even though, like a heathen, he may occasion- 
ally change his gods. When his fetish is deposed, 
the player is freed from his passion until he has 
made himself a new god. Then the hope of easily 
and rapidly acquiring wealth takes hold of him 
again. 

Is such "system" anything but a falsely conceived 



66 



strategy? Is it probable that he who has grasped 
strategic principles would adopt such a belief? 

* Jit * * * jjjjjs ^ 

Chance is of great moment in business. The Gov- 
ernment allows to the Insurance Companies a "prob- 
able gain" which shall defray their business ex- 
penses, pay the risk of the founders and yield to the 
clients a share of the profits. The probable gain is 
so nearly certain that such enterprises, in spite of 
untoward accidents, fail very rarely. And the capital 
invested in this line of business is of an enormous 
magnitude. 

A business man is frequently given the opportun- 
ity to participate in a commercial venture whose 
fate cannot be predicted with any certainty. 

Our principles tell him his best policy. If totally 
unknown factors determine the enterprise, he should 
exhaust every effort in investigating them. To act 
differently would be very foolish, because the knowl- 
edge thus obtained often permits vigorous action 
to great advantage, for instance, on the exchange, 
and in any case is an excellent line of defense 
against attempted fraud. He should then calculate 
the probable gain of the enterprise and compare it 
with any other use that he might make of the labor, 
capital and credit at his disposal. After this he 
should be solely guided by the magnitude of that 
probable gain, no matter where his inclinations may 
tend or what advice undefined fear might give him. 

Coincidences and events of slight probability aston- 
ish and impress us, because we are prone to forget that 
probability is the percentage of realization to trial. 
And if a slight noise, such as the rustling of leaves, 
the screeching of an owl, or a slight change in illum- 
ination, a passing shadow for instance, accompanies 
the improbable event, a mystic curiosity is aroused, 
we are fearful and intensely sensitive in such mo- 
ments, especially when alone or in the twilight. This 

... . 67 



peculiar sensation which is both poetical and religious, 
a shudder and a delight, particularly in women, is 
a relic left us, a once powerful instinct now dwarfed 
by neglect. There was a time in the evolution of man, 
where warfare and hunting were his constant occu- 
pation, where he himself was often hunted^ and where 
woodcraft was of the greatest value in the struggle 
for life. The approach of the enemy was silent and 
unseen. Only slight noises, the cracking of a branch, 
the cry of a frightened bird, and perhaps passing 
shadows would herald his coming. Hence the ear 
was then trained to catch those noises, the eye those 
shadows, and an instinct joined their nerve centres to 
the sense of self-preservation. In his quest for a 
woman, man would often follow the same tactics of 
aggression as in hunting. He would avoid giving a 
hint by events improbable in the environments, wait 
with bated breath after an untoward accident, such 
as the breaking of a dry twig, and finally when he 
had stolen near enough, run to attack. 

The environment having changed, that instinct has 
become useless for the struggle of existence and is 
rapidly decaying. 

But an organ or instinct that has once been pow- 
erful, though suffering from neglect^ will always leave 
a trace of its existence behind. 

That is why the occurrence of a very improbable 
event attracts our attention, and suggests itself to us 
as a revelation of a mysterious force of great strength. 



68 



THE PRINCIPLE OF LOGIC AND JUSTICE 

Let us imagine an extended field of varied shape 
on which two armies are in battle. Let us picture 
a column firing, then advancing at a rapid pace 
then stopping to kneel down and fire again. Then, 
a hand-to-hand encounter with the bayonet, a 
cavalry in rapid ride impatient to use lance and 
sabre, men crouching behind earthworks and firing 
with caution, balls bursting and bullets flying 
wherever the eye can see. Let us fancy the general 
in consultation with his staff following the events 
with intense interest, studying their purport and 
sending out orders. This picture may serve us as 
the model or the allegory for a machee. 

We set the problem, to analyze the situation and 
to read the thought in the general's brain. 

The two parties will make exertions continually. 
Let us consider the happenings of the machee with- 
in a very small interval of time, of, say the millionth 
part of a second duration. Then a few bullets will 
fly through a little space, a few muscles will make 
a trifling movement, a man will sink, a shot will be 
prepared, the brain of the general will begin to 
form a strategic thought, ammunition carriages will 
roll a little distance, etc., etc. The changes in the 
situation. will be exceedingly small. 

The totality of all simultaneous small movetnents 
of a party may be called a "small maneuvre." At 
every moment both parties execute therefore a small 
maneuvre which minutely and exactly describes the 
change taking place at that moment. 

The effects of the machee have a definite direction. 
The fire of each gun and each battery is directed to 
where the aims are near and dense. If the struggle 

69 



is eumachic, all forces are engaged in the direction 
where they may achieve the best results, and if the 
contest is nearly eumachic, this condition will ap- 
proximately exist. 

In consequence the fieht may be divided into a 
series of minor fights. Here contends man against 
man, there a number against a number, battery 
against horse or battery against battery, etc. 

Every instant each unit of the force has a circum- 
scribed region of action where it can use its power 
to advantage. 

Let us now divide the combat into all its partial 
combats. Their number may of course greatly 
vary. For brevity and precision we shall put it 
equal to lOO. A hundred groups of one party, de- 
noted by Ai, A2, AiOQ contend against a 

hundred groups of the other partv, denoted by Bi, 

B2, Bioo, Ai aims its effects at Bi, A2 at 

B2, etc. Ai does not direct its effects against B2, 
because Bi, at the time and in the position under 
consideration, gives Ai a better opportunity for 
effective use of its weapons than B2. 

The battle is therefore divided into partial con- 
tests according to the principle of the maximum of 
machic work. 

Those battalions whose work is small and which 
exert themselves slightly belong to the group of re- 
serves. They, too, have each moment a circum- 
scribed sphere of action whether they are marching 
to take up a flanking position or posted so as to 
defend the flanks against hostile attack,' or serve to 
take the place of some exhausted battalions. The 
best opportunity open to them acts on them as a 
magnet acts upon iron. But it may be said that 
they can respond to sudden calls on their power 
better than the forces more actively engaged. 

The battle, after being decomposed into the hun- 
dred battles, Ai versus Bi, A2 versus B2, etc., can 



be followed with comparative ease and understand- 
ing. There are several reasons for it. The arrange- 
ment cannot change often. When it does change, 
there is some distinct motive or reason or incident 
that produces the change, and this impresses itself 
on the mind of the general as a machic force of im- 
portance that he must try to use to best advantage 
or to paralyze. And last, but not least, in the 
partial fights, Ai versus Bi, etc., smaller numbers 
are engaged, a smaller space is occupied, all circum- 
stances are simpler than in the battle as a whole. It 
may be assumed that the general has a thorough 
knowledge of how the hundred minor fights should 
develop, because our understanding always pro- 
gresses from Hhe simple ;tO) the complex. The 
matters pertaining to the fight Ai versus Bi, must 
be of an elementary nature to him, if he is fitted 
for his post. Hence we may call the engagements 
Ai versus Bi, etc.. the elementary contests of the 
battle. 

Let Ai be superior to Bi. Then we know that Ai 
has means to bring its advantage home. Bi is 
therefore under a pressure which finally would 
force it into a fortified position or to flight, unless the 
regard for its comrades influences its actions. If 
its conduct were egotistical, the effect of Ai, 
absorbed by Bi. would become free to direct itself 

against B2, B3 and force a new alignment 

of the troops, greatly to the detriment of the B 
party. 

Bi therefore must not only sustain the pressure 
of Ai but also exercise a function for the benefit of 
the whole. 

Ai is equally restrained. Should it do no more 
than use its advantage against Bi in a eumachic 
manner without regard to anything else, its superi- 
ority would be brought home too late or not inci- 
sively enough. Ai must therefore also obey an 

7^ 



altruistic restraint which depends, in its character, 
on the exigencies of the situation as a whole. 

A I having the advantage against Bi, unless Bl 
retires or changes its position, support must be 
brought to it whenever Ai engages its forces to 
their utmost capacity. In the elementary fight, Ai 
versus Bi, the A party has therefore a "threat'* 
against the B party, and it is one of the functions 
of B2, B3, etc., to parry that threat. 

In consequence of the various threats and counter- 
threats, maneuvres must be executed, to attack, to 
ward off, to prepare etc. 

Every maneuvre is composed of a series of small 
ones, and each small maneuvre consists of the hun- 
dred parts due to the activity of Ai Aioo. or 

Bi Bioo. and therefore called elementary. If 

the contest between Ai and Bi evolves itself accord- 
ing to its own laws, it is called "natural." This 
word is always used to denote that a well-known 
process is progressing along normal lines. But if 
by an accident, or by an extraordinary effort or by 
an unforeseen maneuvre the natural evolution of 
the elementary contest is in any way impeded there 
must be a sharp discontinuity in the small elemen- 
tary maneuvres of Ai and Bi, of which infor- 
mation will immediately be sent to the general. 

To understand the difference between natural 
small maneuvres and others, ilet ais investigate 
small maneuvres more thoroughly. 

With every small maneuvre there corresponds a 
small exertion. If muscles are moved the heart is 
fatigued in proportion to the expenditure of muscu- 
lar energy. If the attention is directed toward a 
definite aim, it takes time and costs nerve strain to 
pursue another aim. In firing the stock of shell is 
lowered. If one approaches the enemy, the effect of 
his fire becomes larger. If one side becomes more 
visible to the foe, the enemy can shoot with greater 

73 



exactitude. When a maneuvre is executed a physi- 
cal effort is made, the effect of the opponent grows 
a little in the course of action and lastly the means 
for effect are consumed. The sum of all this is 
designated by "exertion." To measure it, we must 
return to the conception of ''capacity." The capac- 
ity of a man armed with gun, bayonet, shells, etc., 
is comparable to that of another who is similarly 
armed. It is measureable as a quantity. It depends 
on several factors such as freshness, number of 
shells, position in the field, etc., and also varies with 
the time, Mathematicians would say that it is a 
^'function" of time and several other quantities. An 
exertion decreases the capacity of the party that 
makes it and heightens that of the other The 
measure of one's exertion is the resultant increase of 
the enemy's capacity plus the decrease of one's own. 
It is therefore a quantity dependent upon time and 
several other factors that might be enumerated and 
independently measured. 

This change of capacities is accompanied by a 
change of effects. If one has approached the enemy, 
one's own effects, and that of the foe, increase. If 
one has sought cover, the hostile effect is minimized. 
In a flanking position the probability of hitting is 
considerably greater than in a frontal position, be- 
cause the bullets traverse a space more full of suit- 
able aims. 

The total result of a small maneuvre is, therefore, 
that at an outlay in capacity one's effects grow, 
hostile effects are undone and, at any rate, effects 
are changed. 

A maneuvre is always natural if with a compar- 
itively slight exertion a favorable change in effects 
is produced. But not every eumachic small maneu- 
vre is natural in this sense. If a squadron attacks 
a battery, the cavalry suffers at first immensely. The 
cannon balls cause a veritable slaughter among it, 

7i 



But when it arrives at the guns, the battery is lost to 
the enemy. The gunners are helpless before the 
lance or sabre. It is true that, in order to find the 
gain in effect accruing to the battery during the ride, 
one must know what effects it has had previously. 
But in any case, it is evident, that small maneuvres, 
to be eumachic, need not immediately repay in 
effects what they cost in exertion. Potential effects 
that finally may be realized have to be taken into 
consideration. 

These potential effects are frequently overlooked 
or wrongly calculated but they are by no means 
mystic or miraculous things that only a genius 
can comprehend or, as some imagine, suddenly con- 
jure up, but they are things that can be reasoned 
out. A potential effect presupposes a large value 
located so that it cannot be reached with slight 
exertion nor without traversing a zone of large 
pressure. When a ship has stranded we want to 
throw it a line, so that the men on board may safely 
come on shore. If the line does not quite reach 
the ship, it is no good for its purpose. A mere 
approach towards the effect is no better than to 
make no effort at all. Similarly, in a machee. a 
potential effect is one which gives no returns for 
initial exertions but suddenly yields a valuable 
compensation the moment that a certain point is 
reached. It is due to a weakness that is strongly 
guarded and which may be conquered by a great 
exertion or cannot be harmed at all. It is a fortress 
with invisible walls within which great machic 
values are stored up, an easy prey to one inside. 

If the process of decomposition of the machee can 
be understood, if the natural progress of the strug- 
gle can be surmised, if the functions to be fulfilled by 
the various departments of the army can be ascer- 
tained, if potential effects can be measured, the 
force of the jump and the value of the price can b^ 

74 



calculated, there still remains one thing to be stud- 
ied, which depends on all of these circumstances 
collectively and which links them together by an 
intellectual chain. That is the plan which the 
general follows. Why does he reject one proposed 
plan immediately? Why does he think another feas- 
ible? Why does he select a third one as a guidance? 
This is the question that remains to be answered. 

Unless the definition of ''plan" is narrow, it 
cannot be very definite. The plan of a battle is the 
logic of the sequence of its events. The plan of 
a piece of writing makes itself felt in its fluidity. We 
speak of a color scheme meaning thereby the intent 
with which the colors are arranged. The plan is 
formed by this process. The analysis of the situa- 
tion is interpreted by the general so as to create 
a desire in him in accordance with which he sets 
himself a task that he considers solvable. The 
plan of Hannibal at the battle of Cannae, for in- 
stance, was due to his belief, that his infantry could 
sustain the shock of the Romans longer than the 
Roman cavalry could withstand his attack. His 
desire was therefore to engage all the hostile in- 
fantry with his, to quickly disperse the Roman 
cavalry and attack with his horse in the rear while 
the hostile infantry was still fully occupied with the 
fight in front. Had the Romans kept reserves, or if 
they had thrown the Carthagenians into confusion 
before the cavalry duel had been decided, Hannibal's 
plan might have failed. Julius Caesar at Pharsalus 
was in the same predicament as the Romans at Can- 
nae but he had two thousand sturdy Germans ready- 
to receive the charge of the horsemen of Pompeius, 
and he gained a decisiA^e victory. 

The plan of a machee is akin to the "idea" of a 
w^ork of art or the ''plot" of a play. It is the work- 
ing out of a desire springing from a "motif" based 
on analysis. 

7$ 



The plan determines a series of tasks that on 
account of the logical connection between them form 
a program. It is not every task that A sets himself 
which is a link in the chain that constitutes his plan. 
The contest between Ai and Bi has its special tasks, 
which are of an elementary nature and are logical 
consequences of the situation between the two op- 
posed groups. But if the maneuvres in this partial 
fight cannot be explained by the exigencies of the 
combat between them, they are hints that a func- 
tion has been assigned to Ai and Bi outside of their 
natural function to oppose each other. If, for in- 
stance, Ai, though superior to Bi beats a retreat, 
this maneuvre points to the plan of the A party to 
execute important aggressive operations in another 
part of the field or to retire altogether. Or if Ai 
makes an energetic assault on Bi, the A party wants 
to force its antagonist to bring succor to Bi and 

thus to weaken the B2 Bioo composed of 

reserves and actively engaged forces. Thus each 
maneuvre tells a story to the observant eye of the 
general. And it is this very fact which permits us 
to bring out the characteristic feature of the plan 
which a macheeide would form. 

The macheeide has the ability to read the plan of 
its opponent and the desire or motif underlying 
his plan, from his maneuvres. The hostile maneu- 
vres speak to it a language that it understands. 
They are as an argument made by the foe that it 
can comprehend and to which it replies by its own 
maneuvres.. 

The language of the maneuvres of a machee, like 
a language that is spoken, has a vocabulary and a 
grammar. Every elementary maneuvre is a word, 
a sequence of such maneuvres, a sentence expressing 
an idea. As in the literature of many languages 
the same ideas and the same combinations of ideas 
recur, the same sentences may be found in the most 

76 



varied machees. These sentences are expressed in 
fundamentally the same manner. To make this evi- 
dent, it is necessary to put aside all unessentials 
and to consider only the characteristic conditions 
of a machee. 

These characteristic conditions can be detected 
by an investigation of the weaknesses of the armies, 
the effects of the stratoi and the pressure on the 
points of the machic field. 

A weakness is a sum of capacity, which in the 
form of stratoi is so placed as to invite attack. The 
weakness is under pressure which is small, if the 
exertion, to assail it, is large. The pressure of a 
stratos on a point is indirectly proportioned to the 
exertion that the stratoi must make to produce the 
unit of effect on the point. . 

The pressure of various stratoi on a point cannot, 
it seems to me, be more than the sum of the pres- 
sure exerted by the stratoi individually on it, but it 
may be less, because the stratoi may hinder each 
other in their effects. 

A sharp distinction must be made between pres- 
sure and effect. An "effect'' is always a lowering 
of the hostile capacity by force. It makes no differ- 
ence how this end is attained. The effect may be 
temporary as well as permanent. It may grow or 
lessen in time. If a point is unoccupied by a hostile 
stratos, no effects can be gained there. But the 
pressure on that point exists and may be the reason, 
why the enemy does not occupy it. To traverse 
zones of great pressure entails loss in machic en- 
ergy and would not be justified unless by a corre- 
sponding gain in effect or potential effect. 

There is no reason why a perfect brain should 
not be able to calculate the magnitudes referred to. 
Even if we cannot do so at present, we can, at least, 
come near the truth. In the great number of 
machees that are known to us — the arts, the sci- 



n 



enees, the struggles of life, warfr.re, athletic games, 
chess, etc. — the brain that has to perform the task 
of the general develops, as its experience and skill 
grow, an aptitude that we call "judgment" which 
permits a quick and yet fairly exact estimation of 
these values. There is nothing absurd in the con- 
ception that this judgment may become as perfect 
as it is in the macheeide. It is therefore not illogical 
to assume the existence of these values as mathe- 
matical quantities. And this assurance suffices us. 

Supposing that the values of weakness, pressure 
and effect are known and that the alterations of 
these magnitudes by all the possible maneuvres are 
as exactly fixed, a dictionary or a telegraphic code of 
maneuvres may be written that will equally apply 
to all machees, of whatever nature they might be. 

Here follow some sentences with their trans- 
lations into the language of maneuvres. 

The construction of the code of maneuvres is 
founded on the following considerations: Effects 
cannot be produced before pressure has been con- 
centrated on weaknesses. The intention of making 
an attack -can therefore be concluded from exer- 
tions, however slight, that would be unnecessary 
for purely defensive purposes and aim at increasing 
the pressure on hostile forces. The objective point 
of an attack is usually not determined upon in the 
early stages of preparation for it. Frequently, 
either party has to choose between alternatives. An 
operation which prepares for possibilities has, 
therefore, an indefinite character. Its purpose is 
to increase the pressure on various points at once. 
The most indefinite preparation is development of 
force, or organization. The corresponding spread- 
ing of pressure of the principal points on the field 
is then nearly equable. 

Hence it is clear that the intent of aggression 
can be discerned at its ver^ inception. 

78 



The defender, does not desire a change in the 
position. He would be satisfied, for the time being 
at least, if neither side made any exertion. But he 
may foresee that his opponent will attack and force 
him to retreat. He therefore prepares for resist- 
ance if he sees an advantage in causing exertion 
or delay to his opponent, and is careful to execute 
his retreat with a minimum of loss. Thus the atti- 
tude of the defender is fully explained, and the 
meaning of his maneuvres, varied as the circum- 
stances might be, can be determined without am- 
biguity. 

The laws of balance and superiority tell us when 
an attack might be successfully undertaken and 
when not. Where the position is balanced, each 
attack admits of a sufficient defense. The intent 
to attack, if clearly defined, is in such situations, 
therefore, an indication of a strategic mistake. It 
may be a bluff intended to deceive the opponent, 
or it may be due to lack of judgment. In the first 
case, the bluff will have to be given up, if the op- 
ponent disregards it and utilizes the time for vig- 
orously advancing his aims. In the second case 
the attack should fail on account of a counter- 
attack. 

From these hints, it is manifest, how the corre- 
spondence between sentence and maneuvre that 
here follows has been compiled. 

I develop my forces. Maneuvres that aim at 
spreading the pressure on the field in equal pro- 
portions. 

I attack the weakness W. Heaping of effects 
upon W. 

I shall attack W. Heaping of pressure upon W. 

I put myself into a state of defense. The greatest 
weaknesses occupy places of least pressure. The 
line exposed most to the hostile effect has very 

79 



slight weaknesses, is difficult to recognize and very 
mobile. 

I threaten to annihilate the force F. Heaping 
of so much pressure on F that a very slight exer- 
tion suffices to annihilate the force. 

Your threat is only "bluff." Tranquil continua- 
tion of development, or complete tranquility, in 
spite of the gathering of hostile pressure upon a 
weakness. 

I ward off your threat by flight. Movement of 
the threatened weakness to a place of lower 
pressure. 

I brave your threat. Maneuvers which increase 
the effort that the enemy must make to execute his 
threat. 

If you execute your threat, it will be to your dam- 
age. A counter-threat upon a weakness of the foe 
whose parry is impossible without the use of forces 
that he had determined for the attack. 

I want to attack you. Concentration of pressure 
upon a large number of hostile weaknesses 

You have no right to expect that your attack 
will succeed. Development accompanied by a 
slight concentration of pressure on hostile weak- 
nesses. 

My attack is in advance of yours. Preventing 
the enemy by counter-attack from heaping pressure 
on weak forces. 

You are stronger than I. Flight movement to 
places of lower pressure. 

I give way, but take care. Flight with little 
exertion during which time pressure is concentrated 
upon points whence the enemy could exert great 
pressure. 

I shall attack you later. Operations that aim 
at the decrease of the hostile armoostia, for in- 
stance by the formation of a coherent region of 
pressure. 

8b 



Perhaps 1 shall attack yon. Occupation of points 
of low pressure by stratoi of small value which 
would there exert relatively large pressure. 

I shall later defend myself without abandoning 
my position. Decrease of future pressure by the 
formation of a defensive wall. 

I shall sustain your attack for a time. Points 
whence large effects may be produced, are occupied 
by very mobile stratoi. 

I intend to give way. The stratoi of small 
armoostia are sent into distant points of low 
pressure. 

I stake everything on this one chance. Consider- 
able concentration of pressure on a weakness, 
although the operations necessitate traversing 
zones of large pressure. Future hostile threats are 
wholly ignored. 

I have as much right as you. Imitation of the 
enemy's maneuver under similar conditions. 

I have more right than you. Imitation of the 
enemy's maneuver under more favorable con- 
ditions. 

Your attack has failed. Stratoi that exert great 
pressure are forced to retreat. 

My attack has failed. The stratoi, which exerted 
great pressure, retire to points of slight pressure. 

I fall, but I sell my life dearly. Effects are 
directed against stratoi exerting great pressure. No 
retreat. 

I am desperate. Take care. Aggressive move- 
ment or some other preparation for attack against 
a superior opponent. 

You are lost. I need not assail you. The ar- 
moostia of the enemy is nearly exhausted. A de- 
fensive position is occupied. 

You must attack me or you are lost. Operation 
that considerably lowers the armoostia of the 
opponent. 

8i 



Your success is insignificant. Continuation of 
the combat after the loss of a weakness. 

The success at which you aim has very little 
value. No aid is given to the assailed weakness, 
■but the highest possible compensation is obtained 
for it. Energetic pursuit of a counter-attack. 

A is not stronger than B. Let us compare them. 
B and A engage each other. No side retires from 
the field. 

I admit that A is stronger than B. Parry of a 
threat by A against B by the aid of auxiliary force 
or by flight of B. 

I am not interested in the question whether A 
is stronger than B. B defends itself against an 
attack of A, but makes no exertion to attack A. 

I will annihilate you altogether. Operations that 
are intended to completely exhaust the armoostia 
of the opponent. 

I will force you to beat a retreat. Concentration 
of pressure on the enemy's position, but none upon 
his line of retreat. 

I will cause you heavy losses. Concentration of 
pressure upon the hostile force while simultane- 
ously his, line of retreat is put under pressure. 

You are stronger than I, but you have no right to 
expect what you do. Occupation of places of a fair 
amount of pressure as preparation for an attack, 
although one is evidently weaker than the enemy. 
The object of this attack are those forces which 
want to occupy very threatening positions. 

The moment is favorable. One makes great 
exertions,. Pressures and weaknesses are large. 

The critical moment has not yet arrived. One 
makes small exertions. Pressures and weaknesses 
are small. 

The crisis is approaching. Occupation of places 
of small pressure whence with no great exertion 
effects can be produced. 

S2 



1 know that my position is hard to maintain but 
I shall do my best Laborious defense. Very 
slight counter-attack. Retreat whenever stratoi 
are not obliged to expose themselves to effects for 
the sake of shielding great weaknesses. 

These instances may easily be added to. But the 
variety of positions and maneuvres is such that to 
write an exhaustive grammar of the language of 
maneuvres would be a task of considerable dif- 
ficulty at least. 

Everyone has an elementary knowledge of this 
language. Boys learn to speak and read it in their 
fights. Girls know how to interpret the discreet 
acts in which kindness and malice, adoration and 
aversion indicate themselves. Animals are quick 
to discern the meaning of movements and situa- 
tions. Every species of struggle has its own code 
of signalling. Among pistol-fighters, for instance, 
the throwing up of the hands and the grasping 
movement towards the hips are well understood as 
surrender or threat. 

If we interpret the maneuvres of a machee, as 
they succeed each other, it is as if we read a 
discussion or an argument. In it statements of 
fact are made, possibilities are hinted at, accusa- 
tions are hurled by the opponents against each 
other, questions of superiority are raised and 
decided, demonstrations are attempted and mis- 
takes are shown up. Even very subtle moral ques- 
tions are discussed and decided, strange as this 
may appear at first sight. All morality is based, 
in the last analysis, on the essential equality-^ of 
beings of the same class and order of life, and on 
the preference that effort and capacity deserve. In 
the involved arguments of a machee, a point is 
finally reached, where a question of balance and 
advantage, or one of magnitude and nature of an 
advantage has to be settled. Thus a dispute before 

83 



a judge decided on moral grounds and the inter- 
pretation of the happenings of a machee run on par- 
allel lines. 

Let us now return to the machee on the battle 
field, and let us imagine a judge, whom we may call 
Macheus, an entirely ideal personage which is fitted 
for his office with the perfection of a macheeide. 
Let it be the task of Macheus to follow the argu- 
ment expressed in the language of maneuvres and 
to give his decisions by granting successes and 
victories to the contending parties. 

Macheus is identical, if we so want to express 
it, with the laws of the machee over whose happen- 
ings he presides. He is the totality of those laws 
personified. But they include the principle of 
balance and advantage and the laws resulting from 
it. Macheus must therefore be guided by moral 
principles as may be shown by the reasoning 
previously employed. And he is logical, because 
to allow an incongruity in logic would be equiva- 
lent to preferring a liar, which would be immoral. 

The plan of the general must, consequently, be 
so conceived as to be able to stand the scrutiny of 
the infinitely logical and just Macheus. It must 
be logically consistent and objective. 

This embodies the principle of logic and justice. 

We may draw another important conclusion 
from the above considerations. He who employs 
force or wants to constrain, he who asserts him- 
self in any way, encounters the instinct of justice, 
that immediately accuses him of seeking undue 
preference. Thus in the argument before Macheus 
the aggressor of the machee must defend himself. 
His defence is expressed in the language of maneu- 
vres that alone can be used before Macheus. 
Hence it follows that the attack of a macheeide must 
clearly indicate, not only that there is an advantage 
on which it rests, but that the method of the attack 

84 



is commensurate with and related to the nature of 
that advantage. The "motif" of the advantage 
must be reasoned out by the general, and his 
aggressive maneuvres must, step by step, be in 
unison with it. Moreover, as the aggressor of the 
machee is a defender before Macheus he must so 
choose h'*s maneuvres as to conform, in the machee 
before Macheus. to the principles of defense pre- 
viously laid down. The macheeide def'^^nder, after 
having assumed the position of greatest safety, 
is always economical in his exertions. He makes 
no effort, unless obliged to do so, and then gives 
way to force only in proportion to its intensity. 
Hence the attacker, after having chosen the plan 
that seems to him most just and logical, should 
not change it, unless the arguments of the defender 
before Macheus force him to do so. And then he 
should so proceed as to convey in the most eco- 
nomic terms, the most incisive answer to the 
objections raised by his opponent. 



bk 



There is a proverb: "God's mills g^rind slowly 
but exceeding fine." This affirms that events in 
the strug-^le for life conform to a principle of 
justice which slowly works out its course. 

Commerce brings things whence they are plenti- 
ful to where they are needed (Emerson). A busi- 
ness has a raison d'etre only in so far as it is com- 
mercial. (Principle of work and of justice). And 
it is enduringly profitable only to the extent to 
which it demonstrates that usefulness, (because 
the advantage gained by an attack is proportionate 
to the in'tial superiority of the aggressor). The 
businessman who wants to obtain more than the 
objective value of his work, is as the general who 
expects too much from exploiting a little weak- 
ness of the enemy. The exaggeration of their de- 
sires becomes disastrous for both. 

An orator must have a message. (Elbert Hub- 
bard). He must not attempt to create interest. 
The auditors must have interest from the outset, 
but the orator must mould the raw material. He 
must say something new and essential with every 
sound that he utters (Principle of work). He must 
order his thoughts so that the flow of ideas that he 
produces in his audience, is harmonious (Principle 
of economy). He must reserve his emphasis and 
his rhetorical art for those points where the sub- 
ject is of the greatest interest, and he must neither 
avoid nor exaggerate the opportunities to fire the 
imagination of his auditors. (Principle of justice). 

Our physicians and teachers are substitutes for 
organs that nature has as yet not had time to de- 
velop. A man living in a simple environment has a 
physician in himself. While he sleeps or rests, a very 
wise, skillful and versatile strategian recognizes all 
weak points in his bodv and repairs them. The 

86 



physician organ in the body is always awake and 
active. It makes the invasion of hostile bacilli 
difficult, combats them when they gain entrance and 
prepares an antitoxin to annihilate reinforcements 
of the foe. It is not easily roused to violent meas- 
ures but when it decides on them it concentrates all 
its available force, and in a courageous onslaught, 
while the body is bathed in fever sweat and the 
brain dispenses with its critical faculty, it uses all 
its resources to come out victorious. It is con- 
versant with the treatment of illnesses to which 
previous generations had been subject. It knows 
how to cure skin diseases, the scourge of our an- 
cestors. It heals all wounds that are not produced 
by weapons. When men are assailed by a new 
sickness, it learns by slow degrees how to treat 
the evil. The disease loses in time its virulence and 
becomes enfeebled. 

It has slight regard for the individual but it care- 
fully watches the interest of the race. It prompts 
the individual to fi,eht a foe of the race with the 
utmost endeavor. Thus it acts as the guardian of 
the interests of all. It is a very wise altruism that 
it practices because in the battle incessantly fought 
by the race against environment and bacteria it is 
a strategical necessity that the members of the race 
should offer a united front to the enemy. 

But wuth situations new to the race it does not 
know how to deal. That is why in the complex 
conditions of modern society we need physicians. 

Our m.ost competent doctors follow the tactics of 
the physician organ. They esteem it as their strong- 
est ally and in the majority of cases they simply 
produce the environment that it knows and let it 
do the rest. But the doctors who want to im- 
press the multitude which is unfortunately guided 
by a romantic sense responsive to superstition, 

S7 



myth, miracle and the incomprehensible, behave as 
that antipodean to the true strategian, the 
maneuvrist. They promise to conquer the illness 
by cleverness, not by effort. According to them 
the patient needs only to take a little of some 
strange mixture and his enfeebled organs and dis- 
organized cells will resume their normal condition. 



There is in human nature, generally, more of 
the fool than of the wise, and therefore those fac- 
ulties by which the foolish part of men's minds 
is taken are most potent (Bacon, on Boldness). 



Our greatest medical sin is vaccination. It is 
founded on bad strategy and even bad logic. By 
vaccination a serum is formed that remains in the 
veins and wards off the attacks of smallpox. But 
the result is achieved at frightful cost. The initial 
operation maims many children and the smallpox 
serum has no "armoostia" against any disease but 
smallpox. Hence the body is permanently weaken- 
ed against a score of illnesses to forestall one. 
Tuberculous bacilli in particular profit by the act. 
Possibly the increase of consumption is due to 
vaccination. The proceeding is contrary to the 
principle of economic defense. And it is illogical, 
b*^cause the principle of the cure of any one in- 
fectious disease must apply to others to be logical, 
but no conscientious physician would advise vac- 
cination as the proper treatment against, say, six 
potential illnesses. A body so maltreated would be 
unable to withstand a mere cold. 



The question what the correct strategy against 
an infectious disease is, can be answered in gen- 
eral outlines. The "wall" against it is sanitation. 
If the enemy breaks through, we need a scouting ser- 



vice to convey the information. But society has 
not organized it. Children should be taught at 
school to measure their weight, to count their 
pulse beat, to determine their blood temperature, 
and, generally, to find by simple means whether 
their condition is normal or not, and in which di- 
rection it is abnormal. To educate the nation in 
this respect is worth some trouble, were it only 
that every one would be enabled to discern the 
immediate effect of dissipation and overwork. It 
is only after an intelligent information has reached 
the physician that his aid can be of value. He has 
to analyze the danger as the defender analyzes the 
threat, and then parry the blow, preferably with a 
minimum of means and in the nick of time. 

In this way he defends the race against its enemy 
according to the principle of economy. 

It is difficult to conceive that sanitation should 
be ineffective against smallpox and that vaccination 
should have to be resorted to as the widest line of 
defense compatible with safety. 

The brain has an instinct that acts as teacher. 
The whole development of the human race in olden 
times was due to it. Prometheus was invented 
to personify it. We might identify it as memory 
plus imagination. Environment sets a task, man 
must make a strong effort to solve it — perhaps his 
food supply is dependent on his ability to cope 
with the situation — he sets his imagination at 
work, tries, and memory records the result. A 
large number of related events teach an unfor- 
gettable lesson. The process passes through three 
stages, desire, effort, memory. Our best teachers 
are content to represent in the above formula the 
environmxCnt that sets the problem. If necessary, 
they aid in the process by pointing out where the 
effort has failed. To create in the pupil the desire 

So 



to overcome an obstacle is a task whose solution 
entirely depends upon his psychology, and is there- 
fore very variable. But the law to be followed is 
always the same; the teacher, as the artist, must 
not waste interest. He must be economical in his 
calls on attention. The teacher must use per- 
suasion only where the artist would be emphatic. 
They both must be exceedingly economic in the 

means they use. 

t 

It is very doubtful whether our teachers in the 
public schools or colleges come near the ideal. 
What they accomplish does not appear to be pro- 
portionate to the time used and the exertion that 
they demand. Our young men after having gone 
through a drill of twelve years seldom know their 
own language. And in mathematics and physics 
they are wrecks. They have been given unnatural 
problems to solve, they have been taught unneces- 
sary matter and as a result they fancy that skill in 
mathematics is shown in the ability to solve freak- 
ish puzzles, and that mathematicians are men with 
a wonderful gift to remember strange formulae, and 
to make long calculations. Of the harmony in 
thought, of the power and adaptability and of the 
true aims of mathematics, they are entirely ignor- 
ant. 

The unfortunate result of our teaching of physics 
is that the ideas of our young men in regard to 
properties of matter and the acting of forces be- 
come fixed. The pliable and highly imaginative 
brain of a young man eagerly assimilates a theory 
that explains a phenomenon in terms of concrete 
pictures. The theory of the two electrical fluids, 
for instance, appeals with such force to the imagina- 
tion of a young learner, that it becomes a matter of 
firm belief, and he would consider an attempt to 
give another explanation as almost heretic. Th^ 

90 



true physicist looks upon an hypothesis as only an 
aid to memory or, at best, a stimulus for invention. 
He sharply distinguishes between axiom, deduction, 
experimental fact and assumption and thereby 
learns how to value them correctly. The fluidity 
of his physical ideas keeps his interest always 
awake, while the rigidity of the few formulae, that 
the average man learns at school, in satiating his 
sense of the mysterious, deadens his desire to 
search. 



It is the function of music to bring into commo- 
tion the wishes and fears stored in our mind. While 
they move they generate in us a series of impres- 
sions, acting as the phonograph, which^ once sound 
has left an impress on the cylinder, can repro- 
duce the sound at any time. In this way music makes 
our organ of wishes and fears invent a story for 
our delectation. There are laws governing the rela- 
tion of the story to the musical piece. Harmony lets 
the story evenly progress, discord creates contrary 
wishes, and is felt as complexity or conflict. The 
melody is the theme of the recital, the common 
factor, as it were, of the sounds composing the 
piece. The volume of sound is the natural expres- 
sion of the intensity of the corresponding mental 
impress. The connection between a piece of music 
and its unconscious interpretation by the mind is 
dependent on many other factors than those enu^ 
merated, and has to be studied in detail. But what^ 
ever these factors may be, we know that certain 
principles of strategy must prevail in the composi- 
tion of macheeide music. The conflict of dishar- 
mony must be logically told to a conclusion, as a 
story with a villain and a hero. Emphasis must 
not be used in vain. There must be justification 
and proportion for it. No undue preference mu§t 

9^ 



be shown by the composer. Such is the demand of 
the principle of justice. 

In the best criticisms, these principles are given ex- 
pression in one form or another. Lawrence Oilman, 
for instance, says of Claude Debussy on page 878 of 
the North American Review of 1906: 

"He exhibits an abhorrence of the commonplace 
of the easily achieved ... he does things that, for 
those whose chosen or hieratic function it is to uphold 
the elder codes, seem little short of anarchistic. Yet, 
when his idiom is comprehended, one becomes aware 
of a delicately inexorable logic" 

There is then, according to the critic, a language in 
music which can express musical thoughts logically 
or otherwise, whose utterances may be trite and com- 
monplace or profound. In speaking of Pelleas 'et 

Melisande, the same writer says "in listening 

to his music one catches oneself imagining that it and 
the drama issued from the same brain. Not only is it 
impossible to conceive of the play wedded to any other 
music ; it is difficult, after hearing the work in its lyric 
form, to think of it apart from its tonal commen? 
tary." The determinateness of macheeide ac- 
tion is here musically confirmed. On another page one 
reads: "His orchestra reflects the emotional implica- 
tions of the text and action with scrupulous fidelity, 
but suggestively rather than with detailed emphasis. 
The drama is far less underscored than with Wagner ; 
the note of passion or of conflict or of tragedy is never 
forced. His personages love and desire, exult and 
hate and die with a surprising economy of vehem- 
ence and insistence Yet, unrhetorical as the 

music is, it is never pallid ; and in such truly climactic 
moments as that of Goloud's agonized outbreak in the 
scene with Melisande, in the fourth act^ and the ecsta- 
tic culmination of the final love scene, the music sup- 
ports the dramatic and emotional crisis with superb 



9^ 



competency/* The critic here praises the economy, 
and points out the justice of Debussy's work. 

The parts of a judge in hearing are four; to direct 
the evidence ; to moderate length repetition or im- 
pertinency of speech; to recapitulate, select and col- 
late the material points of that which hath been said, 
and to give the rule or sentence (Bacon, on Judica- 
ture). The first is the office of the critic, the seconds 
the enforcement of the principle of economy, the 
third applies the principle of value, and the fourth 
is a task to be executed in conformance with logic, 
justice and the written law. 



93 



SUFFICIENCY OF THE LAWS 



The results at which we have arrived suffice to 
show in which manner the events of a machee are 
subject to reason and, however ample the task of the 
general might be, how he has to proceed to do it jus- 
tice. We have shown that development of force 
should tend to exert additional pressure on the field, 
and to make, with a minimum of exertion, the ar- 
moostia a maximum. We have proven that an 
attack must be based on an advantage and that, 
inversely, an advantage calls for an attack. 
We have explained that the essential character 
of defense is its economy, that it therefore 
must always act in the nick of time — ^not before, nor 
after — and with barely sufficient means. We have 
introduced an ideal, the infinitely logical and just 
personage Macheus, who in life is felt as the critical 
conscience of the machee and before whom the ag- 
gressor of the machee must clear himself, in the code 
of maneuvres, from the charge supported in the same 
code by the defender of the machee of being, in some 
definite way, unjust or illogical in his claims. We have 
seen that with the machee on the field there corre- 
sponds, step by step, an action before Macheus. To 
apply these ideas in our struggles, we have to study 
the code of maneuvres of the machee in detail as 
we might study a language, and then conduct our case 
before Macheus as we would one before an unbrib- 
able human judge. 

If we do so, we shall finally achieve the best re- 
sults that we can accomplish, because no law can be 
valid in a machee that is not capable of logical deduc- 
tion from the laws stated in this book. This can be 
shown by rigorous reasoning. Every maneuvre, to 
be of service, must accomplish work, or it would be 

94 



contrary to our principle of work. It must therefore 
change the various values of pressure in the field and, 
in accordance with the considerations of the last 
chapter, must be developing, or aggressive or defens- 
ive in each point. The field may therefore be par- 
celed out into zones, where the maneuvre is either the 
one or the other or the third. But we have laid down 
the laws for development, defense and attack. Hence, 
if we give the problem sufficient study, we can com- 
pare the merits of planned maneuvres, and compre- 
hend their nature when made. However difficult this 
task might be, we need at least not fear that a mystic 
force, or any force whatever, with which we have here 
not become acquainted, decides the issue. 



95 



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